Kidnapped: Captive
by Enola
Summary: Part Two:Peter Pan, cutoff from Neverland and believed dead, struggles to cope with his new life as Hook's cabinboy. But the magic Hook used has changed both of them, for better and worse. Will Peter survive the trauma of magic gone wrong?
1. The Boy Awakens

            Peter awoke slowly.  He had drifted towards consciousness many times, aware that someone was calling his name.  But he always fled from the waking world when it came too close.  With awareness came unpleasant feelings:  pain, loss, grief, cold, hunger, and thirst among the most prominent.  This time, however, he felt he had to awaken, else he never would.  _Would that be so bad?  He fought away the apathy, the desire to give up, and pulled himself onward.  Finally, like breaking the surface of some great, dark ocean, he came to.  He opened his eyes – at least the thought he did.  He couldn't tell because all he saw was blackness._

            _Am I dead after all?  He hoped not.  This was coldness and pain.  He had always believed that in death would come a new life – a life with loved ones who had gone on before.  Loneliness filled him.  He could still feel the rawness where he had been severed from the magic of Neverland.  He had never realized how much a part of him it had been._

            He felt tears on his face, and he tried to wipe them away.  _I can't move!_  He felt the iron around him, holding him down.  Suddenly he was wide awake, panic overriding his thoughts.  He struggled, but he couldn't get free.  He tried to scream, but something in his mouth prevented him from making any more than harsh moans.  All he could see was darkness, all he could hear was a faint roar and the creaking of wood.  

            _Where am I?  What's happening?  Eventually he calmed, too exhausted to fight further.  He remembered being on the pirate ship.  He remembered that Hook had done something to him, but he could not remember what exactly it had been.  __I must still be on the ship.  What's he going to do?  Exhausted, he began to drift back to sleep.  He hovered at the edge of awareness, and realized he felt a presence.  It was a presence that had been there all along, but in his turmoil of emotion and confusion he had missed it.  But he felt it now.  _

The void in his soul ached to be filled, and in desperation Peter reached for that presence, hoping to re-establish what he had lost.  Toward it he sent a cry for help, a statement of his need and anguish.  He felt momentary relief when it responded.  It seemed surprised at first, but quickly moved towards him.  As it reached for him, he realized what it was.  He tried to flee, but he was too late.  The dark presence overtook him.  It forced itself into the void within his soul and bound him.  He felt the loose ends that once joined him to Neverland close.  Some were tied off forever, others connected with this malevolent entity.  He cried out at the painful intrusion, and fought against it, but he wasn't strong enough to break away.   It burned within him, cold and hot, sharp as a thorn and dark as pitch.   Through his pain and outrage, he sensed the other's initial confusion at what was happening, then its joy and laughter when it realized what it could do and completed the joining.  It cried out in triumph when it realized that the boy was now his, completely and forever.  Peter wailed and tried to reject what was done, but a part of that darkness was a part of him now.  He could not resist, and fell silent, helpless.

_Go back to sleep, Peter.  I'll be there shortly._  Hook's thought ordered him.  Unable to resist, and too tired and hurt to care, Peter fell into the oblivion.

Hook was at the wheel when suddenly somehow he knew Pan was finally awake.

"Smee take the wheel," he ordered.

"Aye, Cap'n sir," Smee jumped to comply.  He hesitated, "Beggin' yer pardon, sir, but what direction?"

"Just keep us going straight.  We're still in the reach of Neverland, and we can't leave until it releases us.  Keep us away from the island."

"Ay, sir!"

Hook retired to his cabin and retrieved the opal ring from his desk.  He had removed it when he finished the charm, and only wished to use it when he needed answers.  He put it back on his finger and lay on his bed.  He could feel Peter's distress and wanted to devote his full attention to enjoying it.  He didn't know how this was possible, the ring had not warned him it would happen.  He questioned the ring, and learned that this was a result of the bonding, which must be completed now.  

_*The magic within him and the magic of the charm are interacting in many ways.  It is not yet stable.  You must finish it now, or the opportunity will be lost and Peter will die.*  Shimi's_ thought came to him.

_Can he sense me, too?_

_*Yes, he doesn't realize yet that he can.  He is lost and in pain.  Neverland was ripped from him, and its loss is too much for him to bear.  It is worse for him than it was for you when you lost your hand.*_

_What do I do now?_

_*He yearns for what he has lost.  You can replace it, you _must_ replace it.  Complete the bonding, and heal the wounds.  Bond with him, and he will be yours - a loyal and devoted son.  Heed my direction, and I will show you how*_

Following the ring's advice, he closed his eyes and concentrated.  He felt his sense of the boy grow stronger, but did nothing, content to observe.  Suddenly and surprisingly, he felt Peter reach out to him, bombarding him with his anguish and fear, and he felt the child's need for help.  

_*Go to him*_

Hook felt something within him reach out.  He lead in with calm thoughts, tinged with pity and concern.  He was surprised at that, but realized it was true.  _I do pity him, but he deserves everything he's going to get.  And I am concerned.  I do not want my prize damaged.  He felt triumph and anticipation when Peter responded to him.  He laughed when Peter, horrified at the realization of who he was, tried to flee.  He seized Peter's essence and dragged it to him._

A shock went through him when he felt the joining begin and his hold on the boy lessened.

_*Don't let go!  Hold him.  Take him.  Make yourself a part of him, and him a part of yourself.*_

He pulled Peter closer and felt the wounds in the boy's psyche.  He knew this was where Pan had been connected with Neverland, and reached out to touch one of the severed tendrils.  To his amazement and delight, it joined with him.  His awareness of Peter grew, and so did Hook's need to dominate his enemy.  He forced himself on the boy and ignored Shimi's shouts of protest.

_*NO!!! Not like that!  It must be mutual!  You will damage his mind that way!*_

He joined where he felt the fit was best, and closed off the connections he did not use.  Peter fought and lashed out, screaming in pain and outrage.  But he was trapped and could not get away… and then it was too late.   Peter's struggles ceased and Hook knew the binding was complete.  He paused, relishing this new development.  He knew Peter could never get away from him now; the boy was his.  He looked at his prize and saw the pain still within him.

_*You've hurt him.  Maybe worse than he was before.  You promised me you would not torture or destroy him!*_ came Shimi's accusatory thought.

Hook shoved her aside and concentrated on Peter.  Hunger, thirst, physical pain… _He's injured.  It has been awhile since we put him down there.  Over two days.  The fairies have given up their raids.  It's time he came out._

_Go to sleep, Peter.  I'll be there shortly. _ He felt Peter slip into sleep.

Hook opened his eyes and smiled.  This was going to be an interesting turn of events.  

_*You fool!  You were supposed to _bond_ with him, to fill the emptiness that would have driven him mad.  You were not supposed to enslave him to your will.  You have violated him, and you have made things worse.*_

_I do as I please, hag.  He is _my_ prize.  He will serve me_.  I will not give up a part of myself to him as you would have had me do.  This is not a mutual pact we were entering.  I have conquered him, and he is _mine_.  __

_*You shall regret this.  It is not too late to fix what you have done.*_

Hook did not reply.  He removed the ring and put it back within his desk.  Then he called for Mason to accompany him below.

"The boy?" Mason asked as they walked.

"Ay, time for my cabin-boy to be born to his new life," Hook replied with a smile. 

"He'll try to get away.  Pan's not the kind to give up and submit.  Are you sure this is a good idea, Cap'n?"

"He may try to resist, but with little success.  He is trapped, and he knows it.  He is _my boy now."_

When they reached the room, Mason removed the crate and opened the cell.  Peter had heard the noise of the crate being dragged away, and tried to awaken.  He was fully aware of sounds and sensations, but his body would not respond.  His eyes opened to slits, and they would not focus.  His limbs were lead.  He was aware of a light, and two vague shapes bent over him.  He knew instinctively that one of the shapes was Hook, even though he could not make out any features.  He felt himself being lifted.

"He's awake, Cap'n," he heard a familiar voice say.

Hook frowned and bent over Peter.  He saw Peter's eyes were opened and unfocused, and knew the boy was trying to awaken.  "You know you can't win, but you keep fighting me anyway," he mused softly, smiling.  "I wonder if I can tame you without breaking you completely.  It shall be fun to try."

Peter tried to say something, but the gag was still in place.  He felt the manacles being removed and moaned in pain when the one around his wounded foot was touched.

"Is that where you're hurt, boy?  If you're good we'll fix it up for you," Hook teased.  

"Cap'n?   He's warm.  I think he has fever," warned Mason as he unlatched the last of the manacles.  

The Captain raised Peter's head and touched his lips lightly to the boy's forehead.  As Mason said, the boy had some fever.  "He's injured and he's been in the bowels of the ship for over two days, with no food or water.  It's not terribly surprising that he's sick," Hook responded.  He lifted Peter off of the board and slung him over his shoulder.

"You want me to take 'im, Cap'n?" Mason asked.

"You nearly killed him last time, don't think I forgot," Hook snapped, "Close that thing up and get back to work.  Pan is mine.  I'll tend to him."

"Shall I unlock the brig, then?"

"No.  It's filthy and dank in there.  The last thing I want is for him to die of an infection right now."

Hook carried Peter to his cabin, stopping in the kitchen only long enough to pick up a flask of water and order Cookson to bring some stew for their supper.  As they crossed the deck, the other pirates stared in wonder, then quickly returned to their duties at Hook's warning glare.

Once in the cabin, he laid Peter on his bed.  He yelled for Jukes to bring some warm water, whiskey and bandages.  While he waited, he sat on the bed next to Peter and removed the gag.

"Lemme lone," Peter whispered harshly.  He could barely speak through his dry throat and swollen tongue.

"Hush, boy," Hook admonished.  He tilted the boy forward and supported his head.  Hook lifted the water-flask to Peter's lips and poured a little in.  "Drink," he commanded.

Peter swallowed the water.  He wanted to grab the flask, but he still couldn't move.  "More," he whispered.

"In a minute.  Too much now and you might throw it up.  You are _not_ going to vomit in my bed.  Now hold still, I'm going to look at your leg."

He moved to the foot of the bed to get a better view.  He saw that Peter's leg was a bit swollen and red above the top of the boot.  He carefully grabbed the boot and tried to pull it off.  It was stuck, so he jerked harder.  Peter cried out in pain and his other foot shot up and kicked Hook square in the jaw.  Peter sat up, wild-eyed and awake.

The Captain let go of the boy and backed up in surprise.  The kick did him no damage, probably wouldn't even leave a red mark.  Peter was too weak right now to put any force behind a blow.  _But he has the gall to strike out at me?  He glared at Peter, who was sitting there, looking around the room in confusion.  His legs were drawn up to keep the injury safely away from the pirate.  __It was reflex.  I hurt him and he reacted.  But still…_

"Pan," he growled.  Peter looked at him and frowned.  Hook came around the side of the bed, reached out, and slapped him.  He didn't hit him nearly as hard as he wanted to, but it was hard enough to hurt.  Peter gaped at Hook and gingerly touched his stinging cheek.  His tear-filled eyes narrowed in anger.

Hook chuckled, "Spirit.  I like that in my friends and my enemies.  But not right now.  When I tell you to do something, you will obey me.  I told you to hold still."  He grabbed Peter by the throat and pulled him close.  He squeezed just a little, and added, "And don't you ever strike out at me again.  Or it will go very badly for you."

He let go and Peter scrambled back.  _What does he want with me?  Why didn't he kill me?  He wants to hurt me.  I'm alone, I'm lost…Neverland is gone… no hope.  He has me and I'm not strong enough. WHY CAN I FEEL HIM INSIDE ME?  Everything that had happened rushed upon him again, overwhelming him.  He felt, for the first time in ages, like what he actually was:  a lost child.  He was an injured little boy who had just been ripped from everyone he knew and loved and left instead with people who wanted to hurt him.  He began to cry.  _Stop it, Peter.  Don't let them see you cry!  But everything hurts.  Inside me everything hurts.  _He tried to fight it, but he couldn't hold back anymore.  Quickly his sobs gained momentum, and he curled up tight and cried out against the despair within himself._

Hook was taken aback.  He had expected a fight or at least a cutting remark from Pan.  He had not expected him to cry, much less the hysterics that the child was building up to.  _A child._  He _is_ a child.  Sometimes I don't see that.  He is a child I intend to raise, to mold into the man I want him to be.  And it begins now._  _

"Pan," he called.  Peter didn't look up or respond.  "Peter," he tried again, softening his tone.  _He's going to make himself sick if he doesn't calm down.  I guess it's a good thing I haven't fed him yet.  Now how do I get him to stop crying? Even worse, he could sense the sadness and pain rolling off Peter in waves.  __ He pulled the boy to him again, carefully this time.  He sat Peter in his lap and held him.  Peter fought at first, squirming and flailing with his fists.  Hook let him fight, but did not lessen his hold.  Soon, the boy was too exhausted to continue protesting and sat unresisting, and after awhile his sobs tapered off and ceased.  _

With Peter so close, Hook could again feel the bond between them.  _How far does my control extend?  He fights me, but not like he used to.  Is it because he's sick, or because of what I did?  Hook had many questions, but he did not go to Shimi for answers.  Her idea of what Hook should do with Peter had diverged with his own, and he had no more use for her._

"Water, please," Peter croaked.  Hook let him go and helped him back on the bed.  Peter wouldn't look at him, but took several more mouthfuls of water.  _Why did he do that?  He hit me and then he held me.  What game is he playing?_ Peter wondered as he drank the cool water.

There as a knock at the door and Jukes entered, bearing the medical supplies and warm water Hook had ordered. 

"Good, Jukes.  I want you to stay here and assist me," Hook said amiably.

"Ay, sir," Billy replied.  He looked at Peter curiously.  It was strange to see him sitting by the Captain, unfettered, and the two not trying to kill each other.  He could tell Pan had been crying, but he made no comment.  He actually felt bad for the boy.  _If I were the Cap'n's enemy, and I was trapped and alone with him, I'd wanna cry, too.  "Cap'n?  What's wrong with him, sir?"_

"He's still recovering from the trauma of his kidnapping and the spell I put on him.  Apparently, Curly wasn't the only injured boy we caught.  Peter's foot is damaged, and he hid it when we caught him.  Now, it appears to be infected."

Peter glared at him, but said nothing.  Hook smiled pleasantly and continued, "Now, we will remove Master Pan's boot and see to his wound.  And he will sit still and not fight, else he will be in a hundred times more pain than he is now."

"Leave me alone, Codfish.  Don't touch me!" Peter demanded.

Hook nodded, "I could leave you alone, but I won't.  If it isn't taken care of, you will get very sick and your leg will turn gangrenous.  When that happens, it will have to be cut off or you will die."

Peter paled.  "No," he whispered.  

Hook enjoyed seeing the stricken look on Peter's face, and he pressed on.  "Now that I think about it that would be fair.  You removed my hand, and so I remove your leg.  I'd rather have a cabin-boy with all of his appendages, but I can get use out of one with a wooden leg."

Billy saw that the Captain was trying to scare Peter and added, "Ay, sir.  We can call 'im Peg-Leg Pete!"

Hook beamed, "That's a wonderful name!  I like it!  Mr. Jukes, escort Peter to the brig.  We'll take his leg when there's no more hope for it."

"No!" Peter was shaking.  He knew Hook was toying with him, but he also knew that the evil pirate was also just as likely to carry through on his threat.  His leg hurt a lot now that Hook had aggravated it and he didn't want anyone else to touch it.  He especially didn't want his enemy touching it.  But… he didn't want them to cut off his leg.  It hurt even now that it was left alone, throbbing and aching.  He knew about injuries, having had many of them in his life, and he knew they could make you sick.  He'd always had someone to help him then, though, and he'd never seen anyone have a part cut off because it was hurt.  But pirates did things different, and he didn't doubt they'd do something as awful as that.  He needed to be well and whole if he was ever going to escape.

"No, what?" Hook replied mildly.

"I'll let you touch it.  I won't fight."

"You'll 'let me'?" Hook scoffed.  "I offered you aid, which you rudely rejected.  Now you'll have to ask nicely if you want my assistance."

Peter flushed in anger and shame, but complied.  "Please, help me."  _I hate you._

"If I do, do you promise to behave?" Hook cajoled, loving that he was making Peter Pan beg him for help.

"Yes."

"You will address me as Sir and Captain from now on, boy.  As a new member of my crew, you had best learn to show me respect," Hook stated coldly.

Peter glared and gritted his teeth.  "Yes, SIR.  I promise to behave, Captain, SIR," he growled.

"That's a start, boy.  In the future, I'll not tolerate your insolence and sarcasm.  I understand that right now you are unwell and so I will forgive you.  But next time I will not be so kind."

Hook laid a towel on the bed.  "Now, lie back and put your leg on this."  Peter did as he was told and Hook sat on the bed again.  He patted Peter gently on his shoulder.  "Don't push me, boy, and life here won't be so hard.  You may even come to enjoy it.  Now, your boot is stuck, so Mr. Jukes is going to cut it off.  Tell me if it hurts more than you can stand and we will stop for a bit.  We are in no rush right now.  I'd rather not give it to you in your present condition, but if you need it, I will give you some whiskey.  It will dull the pain."

He nodded at Jukes, who took up a small knife and began to cut.  It took awhile to cut through the leather, but Peter's boots were old and worn, so it went faster than Hook thought it would.  _To his credit, he isn't squirming and he isn't crying.  He hasn't done more than grunt, even when the clumsy oaf accidentally cut him, Hook thought approvingly._

"Here we go," Billy announced when he thought he had enough of it cut through to pull the boot off.  "Grit your teeth, Pan."  Hook put his hand on Peter's chest to hold him down, and Billy yanked the boot off.  Peter moaned, his lips pressed tightly together.

"Blood caked all inside, that's why it stuck.  What's this?" Billy asked, looking at the cloth that wrapped his leg.

"My cloak," Peter mumbled, wiping away a stray tear.

Billy eyed Peter's clothes, which were tattered and dirty.  "No wonder it's infected.  When's the last time you washed you clothes?"

Peter did not reply and Jukes removed the last of the cloth.  "Sweet Mary," he whispered.

Peter's leg just above the ankle and his entire foot were bruised purple and black.  The gash was bad, the skin around it swollen and definitely infected.  It had clotted, but it began bleeding again in places where the scabbing had come off with the cloth.  Above the bruising, the skin was red and puffy.

Billy began washing off the caked blood from around the gash.  "He'll need stitches," Hook noted when Billy was almost done.  

Jukes nodded, "Mr. Smee is the best for that.  He's had the most practice."

Hook looked at his hook thoughtfully, remembering when Smee had cared for him when he lost his hand. "Go relieve the bosun and tell him to come here."  Billy nodded again and left.

"You should have said something when I caught you, Peter.  You wouldn't have had to walk to the boat, and I would have tended to it before we left Neverland," Hook said quietly.

"My enemy's weakness is my strength.  Besides, you were supposed to kill me, so why would I think you would help," Peter answered.  But inside he thought, _He said we left Neverland.  How long ago?  How will I get back? I have to leave soon, or I'll never get home again!  If they can't reach me like I can't reach them, they won't know where to look for me._

Smee entered and looked at Peter's leg.  He whistled and gathered up the things he'd need.  Hook grabbed the whiskey and poured some for Peter.  

"Drink this, boy," he ordered.

Peter sniffed it and frowned.  He tentatively took a sip and gagged as the liquid burned his mouth, nose and throat. 

Hook growled.  "Drink it!  Smee's about to do something painful and you need to not move at all.  This will dull your senses and make it bearable.  Or, I can _put you to sleep the easy way."_

Peter nodded and downed the alcohol in a few big gulps.  The whiskey hit his empty stomach like a burning coal, and instantly tried to rebound.  Peter coughed, but fought down the reflux.  He took a few deep breaths and his stomach calmed.  He felt a pleasant warm glow start in his stomach and spread outwards.  He handed the cup back to Hook, who was chuckling quietly.

"What's so funny?" he asked suspiciously.  _It tasted like poison, but why would he poison me when he could have killed me already?_

"It's always entertaining to watch a boy take his first drink.  The reaction is always the same, though most people do worse than you just did.  You haven't eaten, so it will work on you faster.  Now, don't move and this will hurt less." 

Mr. Smee began humming a tune as he set to work.  He cleaned the wound, doused it with some of the whiskey, and started to stitch.  Peter winced, but it didn't hurt as bad as he thought it would.  

Hook took his place on the bed again and watched Peter's face.  "So, boy, how were you injured?"

"Same as Curly," he said through gritted teeth.  "Tink did it."

"Your pixie?  How did such a tiny thing do so much damage to the two of you?  And why did she?"

Peter shrugged and told Hook about the events leading up to his capture.  In the middle of the story, he paused to take another drink of the whiskey.  He finished telling, and Hook nodded thoughtfully.  

"Betrayed by your friend," he mused.

"She didn't!" Peter protested.  "She didn't know.  She probably thought the worst that happened was that we splashed into the water."  Peter frowned, then asked the question that was bothering him, "How long since we left Neverland?"

Hook smiled, "Two and a half days."  His smile broadened when he saw the hope in the child's eyes fade.  "I'm afraid it's much too far for you to swim back.  Is that what you were hoping for?"

Peter didn't answer, but just looked away.  They sat in silence as Smee continued working on Peter's injury.  Finally, Smee finished the stitches and wrapped the leg in clean bandages.  "All done, then, Cap'n, sir!" he announced happily.

"Good.  Now, take Peter's clothes below and have them washed next laundry day.  Come on, boy, take everything off."

Peter sat up and removed his ragged cloak, shirt and belt.  He had a harder time with his shorts, but soon he wore nothing but his underpants and sat shivering on the bed.  Smee picked up the pile of clothes.

"What's this?" Smee asked when he felt a lump inside the remnants of the cloak.

"My pipes," Peter answered.  

Smee removed them from the inner pocket and handed the instrument to Hook.  The Captain placed them on his desk and began rummaging through his chest.  He found one of his old shirts and tossed it to Peter.  "Put this on and take off your underpants.  Everything will be washed.  Smee, I don't want a speck of pixie dust left in his clothing.  Patch up any holes in the cloth.  Take an old pair of pants and a shirt from the trunks that might be nearer to his size and hem them up.  He needs something else to wear."  

"Ay, Cap'n sir!" and Smee left them alone.


	2. In Sickness and In Health

            There was an awkward moment of silence, then Peter spoke, "How?"

            "Hmm?" Hook replied, still going through his chests, "How what?"

            "_How did you do it?  _What_ did you do to me?  __Why did you do it?" Peter yelled angrily._

"Ahhh.  Well, as to _how_ I did it," he looked up, "that's _my_ secret.  Suffice it to say I had fey help."  He grinned wickedly.  "Not all in Neverland wanted you there.  Maybe your Tinker Bell was in on it, too.  After all, you wouldn't have been caught if not for her."

            Peter shook his head in denial, but Hook only smiled, bemused. 

            _Let him chew on that, Hook thought.  "As to _what_ did I do, I used the magic the fey creature gave me to sever your link to Neverland and I have bound you to me, but I'm sure you've realized that by now.  You belong to me now, boy.  Blood, sinew, and bone, you are mine.  And, as to __why did I do it - that is quite easy to answer.   I want you to suffer, boy, through what everyone is supposed to suffer.  Through what you have been avoiding for far too long.  You will grow up.  You will go to school – I will be your teacher.  You will serve me as my cabin-boy.  You will become a pirate and remain one of my crew for as long as I am captain.  You will make a great pirate, one I shall be quite proud of.  I'm going to make you everything you hate.  I'm going to make you just like me."_

            "Never, Codfish!" Peter cried out.  "I'll escape.  I'll kill you first, and escape."

            Hook rose and stood before the boy.  "I'd rather not have to break you, but I will if it becomes necessary.  You'll either grow into a man with your fire and spirit intact, or you'll grow into a man fit only to wash my boots.  I prefer the former, but I'll keep you any way I can."

            "They won't let me go.  They will come for me and rescue me."  _They HAVE to!_

            "Who?" Hook laughed in amusement, "Your Lost Boys?  Your fairy friends?  Dear boy, I told them all I killed you.  The fairies could not find where I stowed you, and since you are no longer a part of Neverland, they had no choice but to believe me.  It really was pathetic how quickly they gave up on you and accepted young Nibs.  Your precious Lost Boys never once showed themselves to find you or help you.  No one even tried to avenge your murder.  You are quite alone, boy.  No one is going to come looking for you."

            "You're lying," Peter whispered.  They couldn't have come and left again without finding him.  Where had he been that not even a fairy could discover him?  _Maybe they didn't look very hard.  _The idea that the fairies might not have wanted him anymore played in his mind for a moment, before he dismissed it as stupid.  _If they didn't want me, they would have sent me to the mortal realm.  They never would have given me to HIM._

            Hook chuckled, "If I'm lying, then why are you still here?  Do you think I could stand against the fairies if they came looking for you?  And the Lost Boys have never failed to save you before, but that is mostly due to Tinker Bell.  So why are you still my prisoner?"

            Peter glared defiantly for a moment longer, but then he sagged.  _I'm too tired.  I can't think now.  Let him think I give up.  When I'm stronger, I'll get away._  "I'm hungry," he muttered.

Hook nodded, "Perhaps you _can be taught.  Let's hope you're capable of remembering your lessons."_

For the rest of the day, Peter slept in Hook's cabin.  He had eaten quite a bit of Cookson's stew (a feat that had left Hook in stark disbelief).  _But then, Hook mused, __if you're hungry enough, you'll eat anything.  To be fair, the cook had a talent for finding edible things, and was a good judge of plants with nutritional and medicinal value.  His food was a lot like medicine in fact – it tasted terrible but it was good for you.  He and his men had been eating it for years, and none of them ever had scurvy.  _

At Hook's request, Cookson had spiked Peter's food with something to make him sleep.  Now, Peter lay on a cot set up in the Captain's quarters.  They had not spoken again while the boy ate, and Peter had barely finished his stew when he began yawning.  He went straight to sleep in Hook's bed, and the pirates had set up the cot a few feet away and moved him into it.  The Captain wanted the boy where he could keep an eye on him.  Too many times in the past he had left Peter to the custody of his men, only to have the wily brat trick them into letting him go.  Hook tucked the child beneath the covers and watched him for a moment.  He had looked so small in Hook's old shirt.  It hung well below his knees and could have passed as a dress.  His arms and hands were completely swallowed up in the sleeves, and they had to be rolled up quite a way just so the boy could use his hands.

_How old are you?  How long were you on that island?_  He had often guessed at Peter's age, but that estimate had varied from one encounter to the next.  He knew that given the ageless properties of life in Neverland, this small boy could actually be older than Smee.  Sometimes the boy showed such naivety and childishness, that he thought he could be no more than eight.  But in battle, the boy was cunning and formidable, and his plots against the pirates were brilliant at times.  In those instances, he would guess Peter was perhaps as old as twelve.

_I'll call it ten, then.  I made his birthday 3 days ago, so now I make his age to be ten.  A boy should have an age and birth-date as a measuring stick to grow by.  _

Confident that Peter would not awaken for many hours, he went out on deck to see to his duties.  All day, Hook remained on the deck.  He mostly manned the wheel, but occasionally he relinquished it to stretch his legs around deck and make sure his men weren't lollygagging.  It was well into night now, and the clouds were building, obscuring the two moons.  Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the wind was building: a storm was fast approaching.  Hook glanced at his cabin door for the hundredth time since he had left Peter there.  A growing anxiety was building within him, and he was having difficulty concentrating.  _I fear no storm.  So why am I worried?_

"How's it look, Mullins?" he asked.

"Movin' fast, sir.  It'll be upon us soon, we got maybe an hour to batten down.  The men are already settin' about makin' ready.  I don't know what kind of storm this is, but it promises to be rough."

The Captain nodded, "Excellent.  This is our first sea-storm in open water for a long time, I hope you curs are still fit for the task ahead," Hook paused suddenly at a faint scream.  "What was that?" he whispered.

Mullins frowned, "What was what?"

But Hook didn't reply.  He hurried to his cabin.  The scream had been Peter, but he had heard it only in his mind.  He knew something was wrong with the boy in the same way he had known earlier that Peter had awakened.  Hook entered and looked at the cot.  Peter was still asleep, but he was drenched in sweat and shivering.  He tossed about, muttering – obviously in the throes of a nightmare.

"Boy?" Hook called, walking to the bed.  He removed his glove and placed his hand on Peter's cheek.  _God, he's burning alive!_

"Smee!" he yelled.

The bosun's head popped into the cabin.  "Yes, Cap'n?"

"Bring Cookson to me.  Now."

"Ay, sir!"

While he waited, he wiped the sweat from Peter's brow and placed a wet cloth on his forehead.  Peter calmed a bit and lay quietly under the blanket.

"Yessur, you vant me?" Cookson asked.

"My new cabin-boy has taken a turn for the worse.  I haven't the time to tend him, nor do any of the other men.  You know the storm's approaching, and I and every other man need to be there.  You will stay here and watch him.  Use more of your herbs to treat him.  I want him well, and if he expires, I will be forced to find a new cabin-boy – and a new cook.  Take the utmost care of him, your very life depends on it."

"Ay, ay Captin sir!  I vill vatch 'em good!  I come back vith medicine."  Cookson left to get his supplies from the galley.

Hook replaced the cloth on Peter's forehead.  Peter moaned and his eyes opened.  He smiled at Hook and there was no recognition in his eyes, "You scared it away."

Hook was confused, "Scared what?"

"The monster.  It wanted to eat me."

"Why would it want to eat you?"

"It ate all the other children.  I heard them scream.  I'm the last, and he's still hungry."  Peter frowned. "Don't let it get me.  I'd rather grow up.  He steals your soul and you live in his belly forever."

"Does he?  How do you kill this monster?"

"You cut out his heart.  My mommy cut out his heart, but he killed her before he died.  She went away.  Where did my mommy go?"

"I imagine she went to heaven, boy."

"Will she ever come back?" Peter asked hopefully.

Hook sighed, becoming annoyed, "No."

"Why not?  Doesn't she love me anymore?"

Hook wasn't sure how to answer.  The child was obviously delirious.  "All mothers love their children.  It's the law."

"Even _your mommy?"_

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

Hook stared in shock at Peter.  "Don't you know who I am?"

"You're the one who scares the monster away."

_Umm… "That's right."_

"Okay," Peter said with a wistful smile, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

_Well that was odd,_ Hook thought in exasperation.  Cookson, who had just returned, cleared his throat.  "I haf medicine.  I vatch boy, now, Captin."

"Good.  His fever is too high.  He's having nightmares and he's delirious.  Humor him if he awakens, keep him calm and let him sleep.  If _anything bad happens and you can't handle it, find me or Smee."  Hook turned and left.  Cookson settled in for the watch._

True to Mullins's prediction, the storm was upon them within an hour.  It was strong, and the pirates spent the entire night keeping the ship from being damaged or sunk.  But it was no hurricane, and the pirates – though out of practice – settled quickly into the routine.  The biggest difficulty was that the ship was woefully undermanned, a problem Hook swore to remedy as soon as the opportunity presented itself.  The violent weather lasted through the night and into the morning.  When it finally calmed, a heavy drizzle and fog settled in.  Hook called for his men to rest in shifts when he deemed it was safer sailing, and took the first watch at the helm himself.  At his first opportunity, he returned to his cabin to rest and check on his boy.  

Cookson's treatments seemed to be working:  Peter, though still feverish, was not nearly as hot, and for the most part he slept peacefully.  Cookson was exhausted and Hook sent the man to rest.  

Cookson paused at the door, "Captin?  Peter Pan, he say strange things in sleep.  Strange vords, like singing.  I not understand him most of time, but make me have bad feeling."

"Don't be concerned.  I'm sure he himself has no idea what he was saying.  It's the fever.  Now leave so I can rest," Hook snapped irritably, and the Cook left quickly.

After a few hours of sleep, Hook awoke to discover what had unsettled his cook.  Peter was sitting up on his cot, talking to someone. But when the man uncovered the lantern, only the two of them were in the room.  He listened to the one-sided conversation for a moment, and realized that the boy was speaking some weird, musical tongue.  And, even stranger, Hook realized that he could understand the child's words.  

"I don't know how, Tink.  There's no pixie dust for me and I can't remember how to fly.  I can't find my happy thoughts.  It hurts too much inside."

He paused as if listening, and spoke again, "I know.  How much longer do I have?  I can feel it fading around me, I just can't touch it like I used to….  He won't let me.  He'll stop me if he can….  I can't go home, but I can die.  I have to, before it's gone forever."  He nodded at the imagined replay and laughed, "I will.  I promise."  

Hook sat staring at the boy.  _Mindless ramblings to an imaginary pixie.__  He understood how powerful hallucinations could be when you were extremely sick, but Peter had been recovering when he last checked on him.  He either had relapsed, or he was seriously unbalanced in his mind.  Hook wasn't sure which prospect was worse, but at least if he was sick he could be treated.  He didn't want to think that his prize had gone insane.  He noticed that Peter had stopped speaking and was sitting with his head bowed.  The man climbed out of his bed and knelt down beside Peter.  The boy was asleep, breathing softly and deeply.  Hook put his arm behind the boy and gently pushed him back so that he lay flat again.  Next he replaced the covers over the boy and went back to bed.  Cookson was right: Peter's words left him with a bad feeling.  Resolving to question the boy about it when he was awake and coherent, Hook rolled over and went back to sleep._

The next night found Cookson once again watching the boy.  Hook was alone on the deck, having sent all of the men below for rest and recreation.  The ship was becalmed, and the light rain still persisted.  To avoid mutiny, he allowed his men to while away their time out of the cold and wet until the wind returned.  Cookson, however, had to remain in the cabin with the sick boy.  The cook himself was sick – sick of sitting here, bored, while Peter slept.  At least the boy's fever had finally broken, so there was hope that his watch could end soon and he could return to his beloved galley.  Hook had been most pleased when he was informed an hour ago that Peter's temperature nearly normal.  

Cookson hummed as he flipped through his cookbook.  He was going to cook something special for the men to celebrate his return to duty.  He heard a noise and saw that Peter was awake and sitting up.  

"Can I have some water?" he asked, voice cracking and hoarse.  

"Ay, boy.  Es good to see you vake."  Cookson handed Peter a mug of water and waited while he drained it.  "You feel better?  You vant something?"

"No.  Ummm… thanks.  Where's Hook?"

"He out on deck.  Everbody else below.  Now you better, so I can go below too.  But not until Captin comes back."

Peter looked around the room and saw a tray on a nightstand by his bed.  There was an empty bottle, clean bandages, and some spoons on the tray.  _I have to go.  I need a weapon.  Where did Hook put my knife?  How do I get away from this one?  Suddenly an idea struck him, and he suppressed a giggle at the cleverness of it.  _

"I'm finished with this," he said, holding the mug out to the cook.  Just before the man could take it from him, he dropped it onto the floor.  Being a wooden cup, it didn't break, but rolled beneath the cot.  "Sorry!  I thought you had it," he apologized, trying to sound sincere. 

"No vorry.  I get it," Cookson said with a smile and bent over to retrieve the mug.  

Peter reached out to the nightstand and grabbed the bottle by the neck.  It was as heavy as it looked, and he raised it to the ready.  As soon as the cook's head began to rise, Peter swung with all of his strength (which wasn't much) and smashed it into the back of the man's head.  The bottle was made to withstand the rough-and-tumble sea life, but Cookson's head was hard as a rock.  It shattered and the poor cook fell to the floor.  

Peter sighed in relief, then saw the blood on the back of the man's head.  It alarmed him a bit… he didn't want to kill the man who had taken care of him.  But, he HAD to get away.  He didn't have much time left.  He had to escape, one way or another, before he left the Never-realm.  Even if he died in the attempt, he would at least join the others in death if he died here.  Death in the mists or in the mortal real meant his soul would reach a different destination.  He remembered being told this, long ago, but he didn't remember by whom.  It didn't matter though.  It was the truth, and he would rather die in Neverland than live a long life anywhere else.  He felt a bit reassured when he saw the cook draw a breath, and set about making his escape.  _Surely Hook has my things here somewhere.  At the very least he must have a weapon in here.  _He looked at the broken bottle-neck in his hand.  This was sharp, but he needed to find something better.  He shoved it out of sight beneath his pillow, and gingerly put his feet on the ground away from the mess on the floor. 

He was weak and unsteady, and his foot pained him.  But his resolve gave him strength, and the thought of another fight with Hook and eventual escape helped him to ignore the pain.  He quietly searched the room, and laughed softly in delight when he found his dagger.  He could not find his clothes, and decided that maybe the overlarge shirt he was wearing would suit him better anyway.  _I can hide the knife under it.  Hook will never know it's there.  He found a sash, tied it around his waist beneath the shirt, and tucked the blade within it.  Thus clad, he tiptoed to the door, opened it a bit and peered outside.  _

He saw his enemy standing at the helm, alone.  He listened, and heard nothing to indicate anyone else was around.  His eyes narrowed as he considered the large man that had hurt him so much.  For some strange reason, he felt he might not wish to kill him.  He felt both drawn to and repulsed by the sight of Hook, and stood for a minute trying to figure out what to do.  He slid out of the door, creeping along the shadows and sheltering behind barrels and obstacles until he got to the hatch.  It was closed to keep the rain out, so it was easy to slide a bar through the latch.  He glanced at the silhouette of Hook through the drizzle, and made his way silently back to the cabin.  He did not go inside, but stood in the rain and waited to figure out what he should do next.

Hook was a fairly solitary man, and was relishing this time alone.  He could think, without having to issue orders, threaten the crew, or tend to his young prisoner.   It was late, nearing mid-night.  There were no moons or stars to be seen, since the damned drizzle still persisted.  Hook was weary of being damp, but at least his cloak kept most of the wet off.  He stared into the dark, daydreaming, when he felt Peter watching him.  He turned to his cabin and saw Peter standing there, staring.  "It's good to see you awake and on your feet, but what are you doing out here, Peter?"

Peter stood silently for a moment longer, considering.  Then he gingerly limped over to the wheel and stood close to the Captain, sheltering from the rain under Hook's cloak.  He remained quiet.

"You are going to get sicker out here.  Where is Cookson?  Why did he let you get up?"

"He's asleep.  I woke up and now he's asleep."  _Not a lie, just a different way to tell the truth._

"I'll flog the cur for dereliction of duty," Hook swore darkly.

"Don't," Peter looked up in alarm.  "He took care of me.  I don't want him to hurt anymore because of me."

Hook felt an odd urge to indulge the boy, "All right then.  But you still shouldn't be out here.  Go back to the cabin, dry off, and get back in your bed."

"It's boring in there and Cookson snores," Peter whined.

Hook growled and angrily picked Peter up by the front of the shirt.  "It wasn't a request, Pan.  Go back.  Dry off.  Get in bed."

Peter sighed and decided to see if a miracle could occur.  "Please, Captain.  Take me home.  Or give me a rowboat and I'll take myself," he pleaded.  The raw need in his face made Hook smile. 

"Take you home?  My dear boy, you'll never see that place again.  Accept it.  You are dead to them now!" Hook burst out laughing, "Take you home indeed!"

_He laughs at me?  Hook's evil, so what did I expect?  I'll kill him, though.  I have to… I have to get him out of me.  At least now I don't have to kill the rest of the crew, too._  Peter raised his arms over his head, and dropped out of the oversized shirt.  He hit the ground soundlessly and ran.

"What cozening is this?" Hook exclaimed.  He threw the shirt aside and looked down.  He didn't see Peter anywhere.  Suddenly, there was a searing pain in the back of his thigh.  His leg buckled beneath him, but he twisted to look behind him.  _That little bastard stabbed me!  Where did he get a knife?_  "PAN!" he roared in fury.

He heard laughter in the night.  With the darkness and rain, it was difficult to see.

"Cap'n! Cap'n! Let us out!" he heard the muffled calls of his men.

"Get your lily-livered asses up here now and catch me that boy!" he screamed.

"Locked below!  Can't get the hatch open!" they called back.

"Cookson!" Hook called.

"He can't hear you!" sang Pan's mocking voice.  "I'm going to kill you, James Hook!  You won't do that for me, but I'll do it for you."

"Will you, boy?" Hook sneered.  "Come face me like a man and we'll decide this.  There are worse things than death!"

He heard a noise and looked up, but too late.  Peter fell down from the yard-arm above, swinging a knife.  At the last moment, Peter twisted his wrist and hit the pirate on the temple with the hilt instead of driving the blade through Hook's skull as he had intended.  Hook fell down, stunned by the blow but not knocked out.  Peter landed on top of Hook's chest and sat there.  He put his blade to Hook's throat, the tip just barely breaking the skin.

"What you've done to me already has been worse than death.  You took me away!  You ripped out a part of my soul and replaced it with yourself.  I can feel your taint inside me; I can feel you in my mind.  I want you out!  I want Neverland back.  You won't release me, so I have to kill you," Peter growled.

"Stop your whining, boy, and do it then!" Hook snarled.

Peter's eyes flashed and he pressed harder on the knife.  Then he froze.  They sat that way for a minute, as the battle waged in his mind.  "What did you do to me?" he whispered in fey.  "Why can't I kill you?"

A malicious grin spread across Hook's face as Peter's words registered in his mind.  Peter dove to the side just in time as Hook's claw swiped past his ear.  He rolled, ignoring the pain in his leg.  He lost his grip on the knife and heard it skitter across the deck.  _Last resort_, he thought and ran for the railing.  He reached it and began to pull himself over it with the intention of casting himself into the sea.  He could hear Hook running behind him, and he smiled because he knew the man was too late.

"PAN! STOP!" Hook roared.  To the surprise of both, Peter did.

_NO! What's wrong with me? I can't move!_ Peter thought in panic.  At Hook's command, his muscles had frozen and his head began to throb.  He hunkered on the banister, one foot on the railing, the other just above the deck.  He heard Hook chuckle, closer, and felt cold dread knot in his stomach.

"Well now," the pirate said in a voice that made Peter's skin crawl.  "This is an interesting side-effect.  I shall have to explore this ability more, later.  But first," Hook grabbed the boy by his hair and yanked him off the railing.  He picked Peter up by his throat and glared into his eyes, "you are going to pay dearly for that."

Peter panicked and began to struggle, trying to release the hold on his neck.  In desperation, he swung his legs and kicked, catching Hook in the groin.  Hook gasped in pain and dropped the child.  He doubled over for a moment, breathing deeply, and then slowly straightened.  

The fall knocked the wind from Peter, and he struggled to get his air back.  When he saw Hook begin to recover, he stood and tried to run.  In his panic and haste, he tripped.  He looked up at the huge man towering over him. 

Hook snarled and leapt upon the boy.  He was so infuriated that he had lost all reason and felt only the need to punish the boy, to make him understand who was in control.  His eyes flamed with rage and hate as he pinned the struggling child to the deck.  

"Pan, you little bastard," he screamed, "you dare to defy me?  You have yet to realize that _I_ am your master now.  So I will give you another reminder.  I'm going to enjoy teaching you a lesson you will never forget."

He struck the boy across the face, bloodying Peter's nose and splitting his lip.  Peter quit struggling for a moment, dazed senseless from the blow.  Hook straddled Peter and tucked the boy's arms beneath his huge legs.  The boy lay on his back, helpless.  Peter shook his head and tried to free himself, to no avail.

Hook grabbed him by the throat again and forced the boy to look at him.  He laughed insanely as he saw the blood trickling down Peter's cheek.  

Peter remained defiant and spat at the man, but then something happened.  The thorn in his mind suddenly felt bigger, and became a spinning blade.  Hook was lashing out, focusing his anger, hate, malice and cruelty on Pan.  Peter's mind reeled under the onslaught. He had never felt such emotions so strongly.  He had never known that kind of hate, and it was worse because it was hate and anger towards _him.  It tore into him, battering his senses, cutting into his mind and soul._

"You're mine, boy!  I OWN you!  I bought you with the price of that bauble on your ear," Hook said coldly, unaware of the mental attack he was subjecting the child to.  "You keep forgetting who won the game so I'm going to make it obvious to you and everyone else whose property you are!"  He took his hook and very carefully began carving a shape into the boy's breast, just below his collar bone.  Peter screamed hysterically, from both the inner and outer pain, and Hook laughed again.  Even when the captain finished his design, Peter still screamed.

"Quiet, brat, or I really will give you something to scream about," he snarled.  He squeezed Peter's throat, cutting off the cries, and watched as the boy choked and his face changed colors. 

Peter didn't notice when he passed out.  The pain in his mind continued an eternity after the world went black.  But he still saw Hook's flaming eyes, and felt the man's hate and malice cut through him.  Finally, he felt something break, and everything went away.  He floated, and there was no pain, no sensation of anything, no awareness at all.

Hook came out of the red haze when Peter stopped moving.  He realized with a jolt what he was doing and let go of the small, ravaged throat.  Peter's eyes were open, but glazed.  He wasn't breathing.

"Peter?" he called shakily, but no answer came.  _Dear God, no!  I've killed him.  What the hell was I doing?  Fear gripped his heart and he scrambled to get off the child's body.  "Peter," he whispered urgently and shook him.  "Peter, don't die.  Breathe!" he screamed and shook harder, "Breathe, damn you!"_

Obediently, Peter's lungs drew a long, raspy breath, and exhaled.  Another followed, then another, and the blue of the boy's skin and lips turned to pink.  Peter's eyes slowly closed. 

Hook felt some relief when the boy again drew breath, but worry and anxiety still pulled at him.  _Something's wrong.  He's not all right._  He realized suddenly that he couldn't feel Peter in his mind.  Ever since he broke Peter away from Neverland, he'd had a sense of the boy.  It had become much more pronounced when he completed the binding.  But now, the contact was gone.  Peter's presence was absent completely, and Hook felt that a piece of himself was gone with it, leaving an aching emptiness within him.

  __


	3. What Have I Done

 "What have I done?" Hook whispered in horror.  He looked at the blood on Peter's face and chest, then at the blood on the tip of his hook.  "I hurt you.  I – I didn't mean to hurt you…" but he knew that, however much he regretted it now, he _had _meant to hurt Peter.  The hate and anger that had consumed him earlier was gone without a trace, as if it had never been.  In its place was a sick guilt and self-loathing for what he had allowed himself to do.  

"I… you need to be treated.  You're still sick.  You'll be better with some rest and medicine."  He realized that he was starting to panic and forced himself to calm down.  _I can't trust myself around him.  I will NOT hurt him anymore than I have already.  Someone else needs to see to him._  He laid Peter on the deck and covered his naked body with his cloak.  He pulled it over Peter's face to keep the rain from falling onto it.  

Hook stumbled to the hatch and removed the bar that had held it shut.  Warily, his men climbed out.  They didn't like the look in the captain's eyes, and wondered what could have affected him so.  They had heard the screams and shouts and dreaded what sights they might see.

Mason was the first to see the covered body.  "Cap'n!" he gasped, "you killed Peter Pan?"  The others followed Mason's gaze and stared dumbstruck at the sight.

"No, Mason.  He still breathes.  He's badly hurt.  You and Smee, go to my quarters and find out what happened to Cookson.  For his sake he had best be dead.  The rest of you, tend to the boy.  I want him to have proper care… anything he needs.  He'll not be resting in my quarters.  Clean up the brig, have a lantern put in there, and make him something comfortable to sleep on," Hook ordered and hobbled back to the wheel.  His leg pained him, but he was content to wait until Smee was back before seeing to it.

Mullins walked to Peter and pulled back the cloak.  He lifted the boy up and wrapped the cloak about him better, then carried him to the galley and laid him on the table.  Jukes and Starkey followed him down.  They unwrapped him, expecting to see broken bones, maybe even some claw wounds.  They were relieved to see the damage was minimal, and would be relatively easy to care for.  

"What happened to him?" Jukes wondered.

"Looks like the Cap'n smacked 'im, throttled him pretty good, and gashed his chest.  Awful lot of screamin' fer so little wrong with 'im," Mullins replied.  He looked thoughtful, then added, "Billy, go get the brig ready like the Cap'n said. Put up a hammock for 'im to sleep in, but put a blanket in it fer 'im to lay on.  He's still got a bit of fever, and layin' in the rain sure ain't helped it.  He'll prob'ly be in that sling fer a few days more recoverin'.  Starkey, get me some water and a rag.  Some towels too.  I'll keep an eye on 'im in case he wakes up."  

The other two left to do what was needed, and Mullins stared at the boy thoughtfully.  _There's something else goin' on here.  I've never seen the Cap'n look like that before.  Looked like he'd done somethin' he was ashamed of, and wouldn't look at the boy when he told us what to do.  What could he possibly have done that would make a man as cold as Hook feel guilty?_  Considering everything Hook had done with a smile, there wasn't much that Mullins could conceive of that would be even a remote possibility.  But there was one thing, and if it turned out to be what happened, Mullins was going to kill Hook.  He didn't care if it was Pan or not, no-one deserved that.  But still, that was a serious charge, and he wasn't going to make it lightly.  Starkey returned with the water and cloths, and he put aside his musings and set to work.

Mullins took the wet cloth and began washing the shoulder wound to see how deep it was.  When most of the blood was gone, they perceived the mark Hook had placed on the boy.  

"It looks like he decided to brand him!" Starkey observed when he saw Hook's crossbones design.

Mullins inspected the wound carefully, "Ay.  It's not very deep, but it'll definitely leave a scar.  I don't know if it needs stitchin' or not.  But I guess if Cap'n Hook wants it as a brand, then it won't get stitched."  When they had cleaned it, they wrapped Peter's shoulder in some bandages and wiped the blood off of his face.  There wasn't much they could do for the ugly purple bruises forming on the boy's throat, except put some cold cloths on it and hope it didn't swell enough to cut off his breath.  They dried him off, wrapped him in a warmed blanket, and carried him to the brig.  

When Jukes had the hammock ready, they laid him in it and made sure he wasn't going to roll out.  They hung the lantern outside the cell, and closed and locked the doors, securing Peter in his new quarters.  

Hook stared straight ahead and tried not to think, but the ache within him wouldn't allow it.  Pan had driven him to that same crazed, manic rage that he usually did, but this time the boy couldn't get away.  Hook had been beyond thought, but he remembered everything that he had done with painful clarity.  He remembered also that he had thoroughly enjoyed what he was doing, though the memory now made him sick.  

Hook had killed before, and was no stranger to causing or receiving pain.  His pleasure in torturing Peter wasn't anything new.  The sick feeling and guilt he was experiencing now was.  He had been so frightened that he had killed Peter… nothing but the croc had ever frightened him so much in his entire life.  But both fears paled in comparison to the fear growing within him at his inability to feel Peter.  It wasn't that the contact had been blocked or cut off.  Peter simply wasn't _there_ anymore.  It was like the difference between not feeling your hand because it was asleep, and not feeling your hand because it had been amputated.  He wanted to go below and check on Peter, to wake him up and ascertain that he was okay, but he didn't trust himself around the boy.  _I hurt him, and this happens.  What will it feel like if I were to actually kill him_?  I nearly did… he wasn't breathing… thank God he started breathing again.  Twice now he's nearly died when it wasn't my intention to kill him._  Again the guilt engulfed him and he shook his head, trying to clear it._

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered.

"Cap'n?" Mason's voice came from behind him.  Hook turned.  Mason was standing there, supporting an unconscious and bloodied Cookson.  "Looks like he got beaned with a bottle.  Smee's cleaning up the glass on yer floor.  We got some bigger pieces out of Cook's head.  He's out, but I think he'll be all right."

"Take him below and see to him.  Send someone up to relieve me," Hook answered.

A few minutes later, Starkey took over.  Hook said nothing to the man, he just turned and walked to his cabin.  Smee was inside, and helped him remove his wet clothes.  Blood ran down his injured leg, and the bosun cleaned him up and bandaged the wound.  When he was done, he left his captain alone and went below.  Hook climbed in his bed and tried to sleep.  He stared at the empty cot Peter had occupied the last time he had slept.  He tried to reach out with his thoughts as he did before, to find where the boy's presence had gone.  He found no thoughts, no emotion, nothingness.  Still trying to reach out, Hook drifted off to sleep.

When Cookson awoke the next day, he had no idea why his head hurt so much.  When he was told about Peter's actions, he wanted nothing more than to give the boy a measure of what he himself had received from the child.

"Leave him alone, Cookson!" Jukes fussed, but the angry chef just pushed him out of the way. 

"Dat boy hurt me, I vill hurt him!" he swore as he stormed to the brig.  He unlocked the cage door and approached the hammock.  He pulled up short when he caught sight of the boy's bruised face and throat.  "Boy?" he called, and prodded Peter to wake him.  There was no reaction, and the cook thought the child had died in his sleep.

"Get away from 'im, cook," Mullins said from behind him.  

"Boy is dead," Cookson said shocked.

"No, he's not.  He won't wake up.  The Cap'n did somethin' to 'im, but we don't know what.  He doesn't move for anythin'.  I'm bettin' that if we set fire to 'im right now, he'd sleep through it without stirring.  Leave 'im alone, go back to yer kitchen."

Cookson tried to scratch his head, but thought better of it.  "Vell, I vanted to get Petey-boy back, but Cap'n he has gotten boy back for me.  I leave him 'lone and go make him good soup.  Make boy strong again and vake up."  He left and Mullins relocked the cell door.  

On his way back to the galley, Cookson found himself face-to-chest with the captain.  Hook smiled at him, which made the cook nervous.  He was fairly certain he was in trouble.

"Ah, Cookson.  So nice to see you up and about after last night's ordeal," Hook said softly.  "How is your head?"

"Is fine, sir, very fine.  Little sore, but is okay now.  I vas checking on boy, going to make him some soup," Cookson stammered.

"Is he awake?  I trust you haven't let him escape again?"

"Boy sleep like de dead."

Hook frowned but nodded, "Now, explain to me how a sick, injured child was able to best a strong healthy man like yourself."  The captain knew that Cookson didn't stand a chance against Peter.  Hell, the boy had caught Hook himself off guard and nearly managed to jump ship.  But he needed to make a point with his cook that failure was not to be tolerated.

"Not sure.  I gave boy vater ven he voke.  He dropped cup, so I go to get it.  I think he hit me vith bottle ven I try to pick up cup."

"Ay, he hit you with it.  Good thing there's nothing in that ugly head of yours to damage.  Once he bested you, the brat tried to kill me and jump ship.  If I didn't need every one of the few men I have, I would string you up from the highest yard-arm!  Now get back to your duties before I change my mind!"

"Ay, ay, Captain sir!" the cook shouted as he scrambled back to the galley.

Hook didn't give the cook another thought.  He had someone else more important to tend to.  He had just entered the brig when he found Mullins standing in the way.

"Afternoon', Cap'n," the pirate greeted.  "What brings you to the brig?"

"I'm here to see to the boy, Mullins.  It's none of your concern!"

"What did you do to him?" Mullins asked darkly.

Hook sneered, "You yourself tended him last night.  Are you so thick headed you can't figure it out?"

"Ay, I tended him.  And I know that what I saw in the way of injuries in no way accounts for 'is present state.  A vegetable has more activity than he does.  I've seen two things that do this to a person.  A bad blow to the head, one that breaks the skull, can leave a man alive but never-wakin'.  He weren't hit that hard.  The other's worse.  I seen a boy once, he wasn't asleep all the time, but he did nothing of 'is own accord.  He was treated to an insult that damaged 'is mind to the point that it decided to take a leave of absence.  He was raped and tortured, and the proof of that was easy to find.  I didn't find such proof on Peter here, but I know nothin' else that would turn this boy into a livin' corpse."

Hook was livid, "You… suspected that _I_ would do something like that – to anyone?  Much less to a child?  Are you MAD?  I should have you keel-hauled for even entertaining such a notion!"  He brought his hook up, threateningly, but Mullins stood his ground.  

"No, I never figured you for that type of monster.  But I had to make sure, 'cause if you were, I wasn't gonna tolerate bein' on the same ship as you any longer.  And Billy and I were gonna have a long talk once ya were gone," he replied calmly.

Hook glared for a moment longer, then lowered his weapon.  "You and I often disagree, Mullins, nor do we much like one another.  But I'll not fault you for considering every possibility.  I, too, need an explanation for what happened.  I remember every detail of our clash, but nothing that explains his absence."  Hook sighed, and said candidly, "I'm worried.  I did not intend to go so far, but the insufferable boy drove me mad.  I have to know what happened if I am to find a way to undo it."

Mullins nodded and unlocked the cell for Hook.  "Just to be safe then, I'll keep you company while you visit."

Hook ignored the barb, instead concentrating on Peter.  He remembered when he had held Peter while the boy cried.  Then the bond had felt so much stronger.  He thought that perhaps physical contact would give him a feel, however tenuous, of Peter's mind.

"He don't wake.  He don't toss in 'is sleep.  He does nothing when you jar 'im or subject 'im to pain… I tried pricking 'is finger, but he didn't flinch or make any noise.  I tried to get 'im to drink some water, but 'e don't swallow.  It's like 'is mind is dead, but 'is body don't know it yet."

"Yes, Robert, I know.  His mind is gone, and I know not where," Hook murmured softly, touching the boy's face gently with his bare hand.  He checked the earring, to make sure it hadn't come off and caused this, but it was intact and in place.  But… Hook moved the lantern to see the stone clearer.  The diamond was changed.  Instead of the red hue the spell had given it, it was black.  There was no sparkle; the stone was as dead as a rock.  He looked at the bandage on Peter's shoulder and suppressed a shudder.  _I didn't rape him… but I feel that I violated him in some way.  I don't understand. _

"Peter," he called, "wake up."

Peter's eyes opened suddenly and stared at nothing.  Mullins and Hook were surprised, and exchanged hopeful glances.  

"Peter?" Hook called again, but the boy didn't move.  He didn't even blink. "Peter, say something.  Anything."

"Something.  Anything," Peter repeated in a monotone, still not moving.

Mullins swore softly.  Hook felt dread grow inside him once more.  "Peter, look at me."

Peter's head turned slightly until his eyes rested on Hook.  

"Do you know who I am?  Tell me who I am," Hook ordered.

"Master," Peter replied.

Hook was shocked by that answer.  Peter Pan would never name James Hook master.  He wouldn't even call him Captain without a mocking tone to his voice, and it was usually followed by the name Codfish.  The only address Peter gave him with any sincerity was Hook, probably because it was easier to yell out in warning.  He recalled his words from last night:  _You have yet to realize that I_ am your master now._  _

"Who are you?  Tell me who you are," Hook prodded.  But Peter said nothing, just stared at him with blank eyes.  _Nothing.__  That's who he is now.  There's nothing in his eyes or his voice.  He's gone and left his body behind.  _

"Give me the water-flask, Mullins," Hook ordered.  He took the flask and poured some of the water into Peter's mouth, saying, "Swallow, Peter."  When Peter had drunk some of the water, Hook handed the flask back to Mullins and wiped a few stray drops from the boy's lips and chin.  "Peter, from now on, if anyone gives you food, I want you to eat it.  If they give you drink, then swallow it.  You will listen to and obey Mr. Smee."  Peter gave no indication that he heard or understood.  "Go back to sleep," Hook ordered, and the boy's eyes closed again.

"Cap'n?" Mullins queried as they left the cell.  Neither man bothered to lock the door, knowing that Peter wasn't going to do anything without permission now.

"I think it's the magic.  Something happened, the spell did something wrong.  His earring… it's not blood-red anymore, it's black.  It was still red yesterday.  I need time to think.  Have Smee feed him, and whatever else the boy needs.  I have to figure out what went wrong with the spell."

"I knew somethin' bad would come from using fairy magic.  Do ya have a way of fixin' this without fairies around, Cap'n?"

"I may… I don't want to use it, but I may have to.  See to it no-one bothers me," Hook turned and quickly made his way to his cabin to think.

Hook thought all night.  He never got any nearer to finding an answer, but he knew how he could go about finding one.  He stared at the ring sitting on his desk, the opal glittering in the dim light.  But he dreaded what the answer might be, and he didn't feel ready to explain himself to the witch.  He remembered her warning to him when they had made their pact:  you will not torture him, and you will not destroy him.  He had done both, and he worried that she may be able to exact retribution through the power in the ring.  She had claimed its powers were limited to giving them the mental link to answer his questions, but he doubted that that was completely true.

He slept, and dreamed.  It was more a memory than a dream, a memory of what had happened that night.  But in his dream, he was also aware of his connection to Peter, and he saw and remembered what had passed between them.  He saw what he did to Peter when he took control of the boy's body and made him stop.  That in itself was violation enough, but the things he had subjected the child's defenseless mind to afterwards were inexcusable.  It didn't matter that he hadn't realized he was doing it.  

Hook awoke later in the morning than he usually did, and his head ached.  He remembered his dream, though, and knew that he had no choice.  He had to consult Shimi.  If she decided to punish him, he would not complain.  Whatever price she demanded, whatever action she required, he would gladly do if it brought his boy back.  He'd do anything to fill the emptiness inside.  He ate the breakfast Smee had left for him, dressed lightly, without cloak or coat, and went below to get Peter.  Smee was with the boy, giving him the last of his porridge.  Peter ate what Smee put in his mouth, but his eyes remained closed.  

"Cap'n Hook, sir!  Are ya here to check on the boy, then?  He's no different, 'ceptin' he eats now."

"No, I'm here to try to cure him," Hook snapped and pushed the bosun out of the way.  He wanted no interruptions to give himself time to change his mind.  Hook lifted Peter out of the hammock and slung him over his shoulder, blankets and all.  He knew he didn't have to carry Peter – he could just order the boy to follow him and Peter would dog his steps even if the captain were to jump overboard.  But the thought of doing that disgusted him, and he gave it no consideration. 

On deck, he found himself facing Mullins.

"Taking the boy somewhere, Cap'n?" the man asked, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

"To my cabin, Mr. Mullins," he replied.  Mullin's eyes narrowed a bit, and Hook explained further, "I may know how to help him, but I don't know what it will cost me.  I wish to be left alone.  If I require anything, I will call for it.  If the effort kills me, and the boy remains this way… finish him off.  'Twould be a kindness."

Mullins nodded and Hook brushed past him.  When he reached his cabin, he closed the door and picked up the ring from his desk.  He sat on his bed, settled his back against his pillows, and laid Peter across his lap.  He watched the boy for a moment longer, and then put the ring on his finger.

_How do I help him?_ he questioned the ring.  There was no response, but he felt a building anger and … concern? … from the creature he was thinking towards.

_Shimi__, please.__  Something happened… something that I did to him.  I cannot feel him anymore.  Help me fix it._

_*Fix it?  You think you can _fix_ this?  Do you have the slightest idea what you've done?* came the reply, cold as ice and filled with scorn._

_I think I remember what I did, but I do not understand the result.  I hoped with some time he would recover, but there is no change._

There was a pause, and he felt a tingle.  Somehow he knew that Shimi was using his mind to reach towards Peter.  He disliked the sensation, but endured it to allow her to assess the damage.

There was a sigh, and she withdrew.  _*We may be able to save him, but it will require much of you.  What will you be willing to sacrifice for him?*_

_I'll do whatever you require.  I never thought I'd ever care, but strangely I can't stand seeing him like this.  The emptiness with him gone is intolerable.  I'm ready, Lady.  Instruct me._

_*Look within, as you did when you bound him.  See with my guidance, and understand what you have done.*_

Hook looked and again saw nothing.  Shimi guided him, redirecting his thoughts, and Hook realized that it wasn't nothingness he saw.  He saw Peter's essence, like a wispy, tangible cloud.  It was dark, and still.  He looked at himself, and saw that he also was cloudlike, but his mind glowed with life, and the fog of his mind swirled and roiled with the activity of his thoughts.  Peter's cloud was small and dead, and it was connected to Hook by a tenuous, glowing tendril.

_What caused this?  Is his mind dead then?_

_*No, he is neither living nor dead.  He exists.  His memories, his thoughts, his very soul, have been shattered.  He exists, and each small piece is connected to you still, but not to one another.*_

Hook looked around and saw several more glowing tendrils – the connections he had forced upon Peter.  At the end of each one was another small blot of darkness.  

_*You would have done this sooner or later.  You started it when you bound him.  You would not heed me.  You were supposed to replace Neverland.  You were supposed to fill the void within him, and create a mutual bond between him and yourself.  He needed someone to replace what was lost, to save his sanity.  Had you done as I wished, you both would have created connections, exchanging small parts of yourselves.  A bond of acceptance would have been created.  That was the only way you could have kept him.  His spirit is too strong, too free to be caged and enslaved.  It must be tamed with friendship, not broken to your will._

_*But that is what you tried to do.  You forced yourself within him, cruelly.  He recoiled from you, and could not give a part of himself back.  You forced connections that you wished, and rendered useless those you did not.  You sought to dominate him, and gave yourself the ability to control him like a puppet.  When you attacked him, you poured your anger and hate and cruelty straight into his soul.  Because of the one-sided way you bound him, he had no defense, and no outlet for the evil you forced within him.  He couldn't fight back.  You broke his spirit and shattered his mind.  You wanted a trophy, a puppet, you have it.  Put him on your mantle and just remember to feed him.  He'll do any tricks you want.*  _

The anger and scorn in her thoughts were scathing, and Hook reeled at the naked contempt she felt for him.  _I was wrong.  Can it be undone?_

_*Do you hate him still?*_

_No.  I did… but it's gone now._

_*He holds all your hate within the fragments of his mind.  That's where it went.  That's why you are sick with your guilt; you have no more hate for him within you to cloud your humane feelings.  You will have to change yourself much before you are worthy to have Peter again.  I helped you for my own vengeance, but I actually hoped that with the binding the two of you would accept one another and live in happiness.  If I had foreseen how you would change things, I would have had my trees kill you, and kept your Billy for myself.  But that is past, we must move on.  The longer we wait, the more difficult this will be.  You must do exactly as I say, and do not waver or stray in the slightest.*_

It took hours, but Hook was unaware of the passage of time.  He gathered the remains of Peter's mind together and wrapped himself around the pieces to hold them one to the other.  He carefully pulled at one of Peter's severed connections, one that he had closed off before, and drew it into himself, giving Peter an outlet back to Hook.  He only joined one; the others that were required would come later, at Peter's own doing.  

He thought of things that he loved - things that had made him happy.  He felt a bit saddened when he realized how few ideas came to mind.  He avoided those thoughts that came associated with evil things, such as killing, robbing treasure, frightening his men.  He thought of his mother, and how much he loved her.  She had been a hard woman, but only a hard woman could have endured his father.  But she did love her son in her own way, and sought the best for him that she could give.  He remembered Cecilia, the woman he had loved and would have wed.  He thought of his music, the joy of playing the harpsichord, of listening to the opera, the singing of choirs.  He remembered passages of Shakespeare, the verses that moved him to such emotions he could never otherwise reach in his own life.  These things, the few innocent joys he had in his life, he concentrated on.  The love, and happiness, and contentment these things evoked within him he allowed to go to Peter.  

Slowly, the darkness began to lighten, and a new glow kindled within the child's mind.  The glow strengthened, and the fragments began to merge, healing the rifts within themselves and becoming whole again.  Swirls appeared as Peter's mind responded to the positive emotions being focused upon it.  It awoke, but there was still much left to do.  When he was sure that the mind was whole, and would not fly apart again, Hook unwrapped himself from around it.  As carefully and as painlessly as he could, he removed the connections he had thrust within the boy, except for the one single connection he had made that was correct.  He floated silently, waiting for the other to respond, the two spirits connected by two fragile threads. 

But, as the light went from man to boy, the darkness crept back along Peter's connection to Hook, and the anger and hate within the child began to return to the one that it belonged to.  Gradually, the darkness began to tinge his thoughts, and his happy thoughts became bittersweet.  His mother, even though she loved him, never gave him the affection he needed so desperately.  Now he himself was unable to show affection to any living creature, for fear that it could not be reciprocated.  Cecilia, he had loved her so much, but they both had been unbending creatures. He had taken up pirating as a means to make his fortune, and to give her the life she deserved.  She had discovered his true line of work, and refused to marry him unless he gave it up.  But he had become enamored of his new life, and greed consumed him.  He in his foolishness and arrogance had let her go without even trying to keep her.  His music and playing the harpsichord were lost to him now.  Stranded in Neverland for long, he was out of touch with the theaters and concert halls he had loved to attend.  He had not heard true music in so long that it left bitterness in his mouth.  He could not even content himself with playing his precious harpsichord, because Peter Pan had cut off his hand, rendering him forever unable to do that which he had loved best.  At the memory of his loss, his hate and anger once again moved to the forefront.  

_*That's enough!*  Shimi's_ thought came to him sharply.  _*Do not focus it towards him.  You won't be able to overpower him again, but he's still fragile now.  There are many more connections that must be made, but those will have to come in their own time.  Leave him be.  Let him heal on his own now; you've seen him through as far as you are able, and I hope that it's been far enough.  _

But Hook had noticed something odd.  When he quit reflecting on his past, he had looked again at the boy's mind.  He noticed that there was a strange, blue glowing sphere nestled within the cloud.  He asked the witch what it was, because he saw that he himself did not have anything like it within his own mind.

_*It's the memory spell.  I told you of it before.  All of his memories from before its casting are gathered in that sphere, separated from the rest of his memory.  If you notice, it isn't very well made.  Peter fought it and the spell was damaged.  When he dreams, the memories often seep out and trouble him as nightmares.  Rarely will he ever remember in waking, but it happens at times, to his pain.  Far more often, recent memories become trapped behind the spell, so that he forgets things he shouldn't.  Leave it be.  Despite its imperfections, it would be dangerous if that spell were to ever fail.  Return to your own self now, and let the child heal.*_

Hook withdrew, and slowly awoke to find himself in his own room again.  He looked at the boy upon his lap for a long time.  He was still connected, but it was a lighter contact.  It was still better than the void.  He didn't feel the heart wrenching guilt anymore, but he did feel some remorse for his actions.  He still felt anger at Peter, and knew that he carried a healthy portion of hate and contempt for the irritating child.  But… he also felt pity and a kind of affection growing for the boy.  It was confusing, and his head hurt when he tried to sort through his emotions.  There were too many conflicts.

_*That's how it's going to be for awhile, I'm afraid.  If this had been done right, as I had wished, you both would have overcome your hatred and distrust and come to understanding fairly quickly.  Now you are in-between, and will have to find your own ways.  You still harbor ill-will for him, and he will harbor the same for you.  But you also will find it easier to tolerate him, and find the patience you lack.  He'll be more receptive to you, and will allow you to get close if you don't bite.  You are going to have to win his trust… he'll not forget how you hurt him.  But if you can find a way to forgive him for the wrongs he has inflicted upon you, then he will be able to forgive you for what you have done to him.  I can help you no more.  You must find your own way.  You are leaving Neverland's borders now, and my reach does not extend further than that.*_

_Thank you, Lady.  I wish now that I had not done this thing, and instead left the boy on the isle.  But I am committed, and I promise he will grow to be a man, in good spirit and health, if he wakes from this ordeal whole.  I'll not punish him worse than I'll give any other man of my crew, and I will use restraint.  _

_*Good.  Neither Peter nor yourself will ever be able to return here, no matter how much you may try.  Neverland is shut to you forever, only the fey can bring you back.  And they won't because they believe you killed Peter.*_

And with that, Shimi was gone.  


	4. Recovery

Hook lifted Peter out of his lap and put him on the bed.  He slowly got up, his muscles cramped and sore from sitting still for too long.  He took a moment to stretch; trying to work out the stiffness, then went onto the deck.  It was night of the same day, and Hook was starving.  He sent Smee to tend and watch Peter, and got his own food from the galley.  When he returned to his cabin with his supper, he informed Smee that caring for Peter was his new duty, and the bosun was to see to the boy before doing anything else, unless the safety of the ship was at risk.  

Peter slept on, his mind recovering from the trauma.  He didn't know when existence began again (really, he never truly knew existence had for awhile ended for him), he just floated without thought.  By degrees he became aware of emotion:  happiness, joy, love, warmth… feelings that drew him, and gave him a sense of well being and wholeness.  He basked in the light of these feelings, and slowly his mind and soul healed.  After awhile, the flow of good feelings subsided and stopped, but it didn't matter.  He was warmed, and the darkness had abated to a tolerable level.  Slowly he began to remember things, beginning with his birth, his life coming to him again in flashes.  Most of these memories came and went quickly, hidden away from him.  But that wasn't important.  They left an impression upon him, and he began get his own feelings back.  Existence, memory, emotion, these were the steps he took over time.  Finally, awareness came, and all the pieces fell together.  

Peter slept through the night and into the next day.  Smee tended him faithfully – changing bandages, stitching the cut on his chest, keeping him clean and giving him food and drink.  Every once in awhile, Peter's eyes would open, and it seemed as if he tried to speak.  But soon afterwards, they would close and he would sleep again.

"Sleep lad, rest will do ya a world o' good," Smee would tell him when he saw Peter looking at him.  Smee had been in favor of tossing the troublesome Pan overboard after he had seen the injury he had given his Captain.  But as he tended to him, he felt an affection growing for the "wee lad".  

Eventually, Peter became restless in his sleep, and would cry out at times.  That night, Hook was awakened a couple of times by the boy's outbursts.  He would give Peter a sleeping draught, and put a cloth on his brow.  When the boy calmed, he went back to sleep.  All the next day it continued with growing frequency, and during the night, Hook himself had a nightmare.

_He was in Neverland.  There were bodies lying all around, bodies of children.  They were of all ages, even one that looked to be three or four.  They were dead, some of them horribly wounded.  This image was replaced by a woman with a sword, fighting a hideous monster that had him in its grip.  The monster's teeth and claws were biting and tearing into him and he cried out in pain and despair – for himself and for the woman when she fell.  The old monster died, and a new one came – a dark man with a single silver claw.  The dark man pursued and hunted and finally captured him.  He screamed in pain again and hopelessness as the dark man ravaged him, wracking his body with insult and injury.  He spun, helpless, into darkness as he felt himself die._

Hook awoke with a cry and listened to its echo in the dark.  He shook himself, trying to regain his balance.  "Echo?" he muttered, and then he heard the cry again.  He fumbled at his nightstand and lit a candle.  "Peter?" he called and heard moans in response.  He went to the boy's cot and knelt by its side.  Peter was drenched in sweat, thrashing in the throes of the nightmare.  Hook tried to give him more of the sleeping draught, but Peter choked it back up.

_Nightmare.  I saw his nightmare.  Dear God, is that what he's been dreaming these past two days?_  Hook lifted Peter up and held the boy close, sitting on the cot while he tried to calm him.  Peter fought, trying to escape, but Hook held him closer.  After a few minutes, he calmed and the nightmare left him.  Soon, he was breathing peacefully and lay still in the captain's arms.  Hook continued to hold him, reflecting on the dream.

_Everything I saw, everything he saw, actually happened.  I remember those events from the were-hag's history lessons.  But this was from Peter's perspective, how he perceived things.  To him, I'm a monster on par with the thing that murdered his mother.  _He sighed.  _I don't want him to see me as his enemy.  I want him to accept his life here, and become a member of my crew.   _

"I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered, "I'm sorry.  I don't want to hurt you.  Please don't make me anymore.  You're mine, and I don't want to lose you.  Please, wake up soon."

Still holding Peter in his lap, Hook drifted off to sleep.

Peter, however, lay awake for awhile, listening to Hook's beating heart and deep, even breaths.  In his hand, he held the broken bottle neck he had hidden under his pillow.  He had awakened in Hook's arms, confused and disoriented.  He knew he had had a bad dream, and as usual couldn't remember it.  But he wondered why Hook was holding him.  For some strange reason, he felt safe.  He had feigned sleep, slowly reaching under his pillow to retrieve the weapon he vaguely remembered putting there forever ago.  He knew he couldn't kill Hook, but he wanted desperately to hurt the pirate, to hurt Hook as badly as Hook had hurt him.  Maybe even get the pirate so angry he would kill him and end all this.  He had finally gotten the glass, and had been about to drive it into Hook's back, when he had heard the man speak.  Not only his words, but the feeling of true regret and grief behind them gave Peter pause.  Through that strange connection, he knew the man meant what he said.

_Hook is sorry?  How can he be sorry?  He's evil, and he likes to hurt me.  I felt him _like_ it when he hurt me.  Peter thought for awhile, and then realized something was different.  The thorn in his mind was gone, and the pain and unsteadiness in his thoughts were gone with it.  Were it not for the physical aches, he would say he actually felt good.  He could still feel a connection with Hook, but not as strongly as before, nor as unpleasant.  He lay in turmoil for awhile, torn by his desire to try to escape again and his curiosity at these new circumstances, and gradually realized the man was asleep.  He didn't want to die; he had just wanted to end the pain.  But now it was gone.  He also wanted to go home, but he knew somehow that it was impossible now, that they had passed beyond Neverland's reach.  Until his link to the isle was restored, he would not find his way back – regardless of whether or not they were still with the fey realms.  ___

_I can't go back, but I can still escape one day… just not now.  Wait and see, maybe the chance will come up.  For now, I'll play his game like he played mine, and I'll end it when I'm ready_.  He gently placed the glass back under his pillow, and let himself drift to sleep to the tempo of his enemy's heart.

Peter woke again just before dawn.  He was lying on the cot and he could hear Hook a few feet away in the other bed, snoring softly.  He lay still for a few minutes and enjoyed just being alive and whole again.  Gradually, the sun rose and the room lit up as the dawn shone through the window.  

_I'm bored.  I need to get up._  He sat up quickly, and then lay back down even quicker as a wave of dizziness overtook him.  When the room steadied, he sat up again, slowly this time, and felt relieved when the room didn't dance.  He looked down at himself and took stock of his situation.  _Where are my clothes?  Oh, I remember._

He felt soreness in a lot of places and probed himself to find out what hurt and why.  His cheek was a little achy, but easy to ignore.  His throat, on the other hand, was very painful.  Swallowing was difficult and he thought it might be a bit swollen.  For some reason, his shoulder and chest were bandaged, and when he touched the place where a little blood had seeped through, he felt a sting.  _Hook caught me trying to escape.  Did he stab me?  I don't remember him doing this.  He decided to leave it alone and find out about it later.  His leg felt better and only ached when he poked at it.  He wondered how it could heal with the threads Smee had put in it, but it was still wrapped and he didn't want to aggravate it.  _

When he finished his own inventory, he looked at his surroundings.  He watched Hook for awhile as he slept.  The man lay on his back, but his face was turned towards Peter.  Peter tried to feel angry at what the pirate had done to him, but failed.  He'd had enough of those feelings for awhile, and he didn't think he had enough energy for it anyway.  Hook actually looked peaceful, and didn't seem so sinister now that he wasn't frowning and glaring and promising to kill him. 

Peter turned his head to look around, and felt an odd sensation as his hair caught on something strange.  He reached up and touched his right ear, and found the earring there.  He frowned, confused at first, then remembered:  his birthday present from Captain Hook, on the last day he ever saw Neverland.  He tried to sort through the jumble of memories.  He remembered that day, but what happened just after Hook pierced his ear was blurred and vague.  He remembered being in the dark place.  He remembered Hook waking him and having his leg tended (he was going to get Jukes for that Peg-leg Pete crack).  After that things were blurred again, until he awoke and tried to escape.  The last thing he remembered before last night was Hook sitting on him, yelling.  There had been a lot of pain, then confusion.

_Hook apologized.  He said he was sorry for hurting me, and he didn't lie._ He knew you were supposed to accept an apology if it was sincere, but he didn't want to.  Then he thought of Tink, and of how she had refused to forgive Curly.  That had started this, when she had remained angry, and then Peter had gotten angry, and she got angrier and tried to get them back for hurting her feelings.  _I could stay mad, and hate him, and try to get him back.  But when will it stop?  It won't – we'll keep hurting each other until one or both of us are dead.  I'm tired of hurting.  I miss home._

He saw an object across the room that made him catch his breath.  His pipes were on a bookshelf beside Hook's desk.  He felt a longing to hold something familiar, something from Neverland.  He eased out of his bed, placing all of his weight on his good foot.  He shivered in the morning air and wrapped the blanket around him.  He tested his wounded foot gingerly, and was relieved to find that it would hold his weight even though it began hurting again.  Quietly and slowly, he limped towards the shelf.  Halfway there, his strength failed him and he fell to the floor.  He cried out as he landed on his bad leg and rolled off it, swearing in fey.

Hook leaped out of the bed, alarmed at the commotion.  He held his hook at the ready for any attackers.  He glanced at the cot and felt a jolt when he saw it was empty.  Then he heard Peter's voice coming from the foot of his bed.

"…damned dust-sniffing son-of-a-TROLL!"  the hoarse voice said quietly but vehemently.  Hook strode to the end of the bed and saw Peter lying on his side, holding his leg and looking up at him.

"Morning, Codfish," Peter croaked.  It not only hurt to swallow, it also was difficult to make sounds without his voice cracking.  

"Pan.  What are you doing?" Hook asked.  It annoyed him that the brat was still calling him Codfish (he made a note to teach Peter again to address him properly), but he was too relieved to get upset.  As good as it was to see Peter awake and active after these last few days, he remained mindful of the last time the boy had awakened.  He didn't trust Peter's intentions.  

"I wanted my pipes," Peter said, pointing towards the shelf.  "I tried to be quiet, but I fell and hurt my leg."

Hook held out his hand for the boy to take, but Peter shook his head.  "I don't want your help," he snapped.

Hook felt a surge of irritation, but he fought it down.  _Don't let him goad you.  He'll learn later.  "It doesn't matter if you want my help.  You need it.  Let me help you," he replied and kept his hand extended._

Peter hesitated, and then grabbed the offered hand.  Hook pulled the boy to his feet, then picked up the blanket and draped it over Peter's shoulders.  "Thanks," Peter mumbled.  He turned and tried to limp onwards to the shelf.  Suddenly, he was lifted up and carried to the bookshelf.

"I admire your self-reliance, Peter, but don't be stubborn.  You've been sick ever since I brought you aboard, and you're weak.  Give yourself a chance to get better," Hook admonished.  They reached the shelf and Peter took his pipes, hugging them tightly to his chest.  Hook carried him back to the cot and set him on it. 

Peter stared at his pipes with shining eyes, and gently traced the flowing script that decorated the pieces.  Hook let him be and went about getting dressed.  He had slept later than he usually did, but he felt well-rested and in good spirits, so he didn't mind.  He stuck his head out the door and called for Smee to bring them breakfast, then sat at his desk and watched his boy.  Peter had finished examining his pipes, and placed them to his lips.  He looked like he was going to play, but he stopped and lowered them.  He sighed softly and laid them on his pillow.

"How do you feel?" Hook asked.

"Why do you care?" Peter retorted.  Hook's eyes flashed angrily, but he didn't reply.  Peter shook his head, and added, "I – I don't know how I feel anymore.  I'm lost.  I know I'm tired of being in this bed.  I'm tired of being sick.  I'm tired of being afraid and hurt.  I want to go home."

"I won't return you," Hook said sternly.

"You couldn't if you wanted to.  We've left Neverland, and we're in the fairy-realm between the isles.  You don't find Neverland, it finds you… that's the way with all of these islands.  If the fairies knew I was alive, they never would have let us go.  But until they find out the truth, I'll never find my way back.  So, I'm stuck with you for now.  There's nowhere for me to go," Peter's voice cracked and quavered, and a deep sadness filled him. 

Hook crossed the room and squatted down before the child.  He touched Peter lightly on the forehead, noting how the boy flinched at his touch.  At least the fever was completely gone.  "Things will go easier for you if you quit fighting me.  I don't want to hurt you, but if you defy me, you will be punished," he said softly.

"You don't want to hurt me?" Peter asked incredulously, "you seemed to enjoy it well enough before!"  Absently, Peter's hand reached up and touched his shoulder.  

Hook took Peter's hand and gently pulled it away from the bandage.  "It's best not to touch it.  Let it heal.  Smee put in some stitches, finest job he ever did.  It will leave a scar, though, but it shouldn't be too bad."

"A scar?  What did you do?" Peter asked, frowning.

"You don't remember?" Hook asked, surprised when Peter shook his head.  "What do you remember about your escape attempt?"

Peter thought for awhile, and then he smiled, "I had you beat."  He giggled at the look on Hook's face and continued, "I did!  I could have killed you, but you cheated and made it so I couldn't.  And I still almost got away, but you cheated again…"  Suddenly he stopped and stared wide-eyed at the man.  "You made me stop.  Can you still do that to me?  I don't feel you inside like I could then – it doesn't hurt now – but you're still there.  Can you still make me do things I don't want to do?"

"I don't know," Hook said guardedly.  He didn't think he could, and even if he could, he had no intention of doing it ever again.  But he didn't want to show the boy all of his cards.  Maybe Peter would cooperate more if he thought Hook could make him do things against his will.

"Please don't.  Don't ever, not again," Peter pleaded.  "My head hurt so much, and it scared me when I couldn't move."  Hook said nothing, but nodded his head.  "I remember you grabbed me.  You were angry; I thought you were going to kill me.  Then… I don't know.  I hurt.  Everything disappeared, except for the pain.  Then… nothing.  What did you do?"

Hook sighed.  He didn't want to explain to Peter how he had attacked the boy's mind.  He didn't think he understood it well enough anymore to even begin to try to explain.  If Peter remembered later, he would discuss it with him.  But the wound on his shoulder required explanation… and sooner would be better.  Hook went to his desk and retrieved a hand-mirror from a drawer.  He handed it to Peter, sat next to the boy, and carefully began to remove the bandages.  While Hook was doing that, Peter looked at himself in the mirror.  He saw the large, yellow-brown bruise on his right cheek.  There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looked paler than usual.  He thought he looked horrible.  He saw the ugly bruises on his throat, and wondered again what had done that.  He was about to ask when he caught sight of the earring in his right earlobe.  The stone was blood-red, and flashed brightly.  He stared at it for a while, and decided he liked it.  He felt an attachment to it, and he thought it gave him a delightfully wicked look.

"Thank you for the earring.  I like it.  I don't think I've ever gotten a birthday present before."

Hook paused, stunned by Peter's words.  _He thanks me? He likes_ it?  Does he not remember that it's the reason he's cut off from Neverland?  Perhaps not, I never told him what it was for and the event was traumatic.  He obviously doesn't realize its role in the spell.  That's actually a relief.  _"You're welcome.  It's the best diamond I had.  Jukes and I spent a lot of time making it for you."_

"Diamond?  I thought diamonds were clear, like ice."

"It's a special, very rare diamond," Hook replied smiling, "so take care of it.  You can't take it off, so make sure you don't rip it out."  He removed the last of the bandage and pulled it free.  "Take a look," he told Peter. 

Peter looked down, realized his neck was too sore to bend the right way to see it, and looked at the wound in the mirror.  He gasped in shock at the symbol inscribed in his flesh, the skin red and puckered around the two slashes that formed Hook's trademark, dozens of small precise stitches crisscrossing it.  It looked just like the crossbones on Hook's hat.  It wasn't large, he could easily cover it with four fingers, but it was plain to see it was a mark of ownership, even to a child like him.  He lowered the mirror slowly and stared at Hook.  "I hate you," he said without venom or malice.  He sounded extremely sad and tired.  

Hook had expected those words, but the tone cut him to the quick.  He nodded and went back to his desk, "I know Peter.  Sometimes I hate me, too."

A few minutes later, the heavy silence was broken by Mr. Smee.  He bustled in, carrying a tray with breakfast for two.  He set it down by Hook and gave the Captain his bowl of porridge and a cup of coffee.  Then, he set up the nightstand where Peter sat on his cot, and placed another bowl of porridge and a cup of coffee on it.  

"Mornin' laddie.  Good ta see ya up!  We was beginin' ta think ya would sleep forever," he greeted cheerfully.  He saw Peter's exposed wound and clucked disapprovingly.  "Now, lad, best leave yer hurts alone now.  If ya pick at it, it'll scar worse."

"Will I have the scar forever?" Peter asked forlornly as he poked his spoon at his breakfast. 

"Aye, scars usually stay with ya till ya die.  It might fade o'er time, 'specially if ya gets some sun on yer skin.  But don't worry, laddie," he added when he saw how upset the boy was, "it goes well with the rest o' yer scars."  He pointed at the white marks on the child's stomach, chest and arms.  "Ya know, I been wonderin', those look like bite marks.  Did the croc get a hold o' ya?"

Peter looked thoughtful.  He had occasionally wondered about some of the scars he had, but never enough to actually ask Tink about them.  He'd had most of these scars for as long as he could remember.  "No… I remember when Tock was a baby croc, and I had these then.  I don't remember anything from the time before…"

"Time before what?" Smee pressed.

"I woke up one day.  I didn't know my name or anything… I remember teeth and claws…blood…. Sad…" Peter mumbled, his eyes became far away and his voice faded as he lost himself in trying to remember.  He began rubbing the inside of his wrist as he thought.

"Peter!" Hook called, snapping the boy back to reality.  "Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.  I have too few crewmen as it is, and I need every hand I can get.  You need your strength back, and you've had nothing better than broth since you came aboard."  He knew what Peter was trying to remember.  He wasn't sure if the memory spell would continue to hold the boy now that they were gone from Neverland, but he didn't want Peter to break it if it was weakening.  He knew the dreams that haunted the boy, and it would be best if Peter never remembered the things that had made him try to kill himself before. 

Peter picked up the cup and looked at the black, steaming liquid inside.  He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose, "What's this?"

"Coffee, lad," Smee replied as he moved around the room, cleaning up.  

"Coffee, Smee?  I don't think the boy should be drinking coffee.  He's enough of a handful as it is without giving him something to make him even more active," Hook growled. 

"Ay, sir, but I thought he'd need somethin' warm fer his throat, what with the bruises where ya throttled 'im and all."

"You strangled me, too, Codfish?" Peter asked quietly.  "I remember you holding me by the throat, but you let go when I kicked you.  That's when you attacked me and I….  Why didn't you just kill me?"  Peter stared at Hook and took a sip of his coffee.  It tasted bitter, and burned his tongue a bit, but it felt good going down his throat.  

Smee looked like he was going to ask another question, so Hook cut him off.  "I told you, boy.  I want you alive and serving me.  I regret that I hurt you like that, and I don't wish to do it again.  Now eat.  Smee, the boy needs those clothes you've been making for him.  A bath would be good, too.  Finish doctoring him while he eats, then clean him up and dress him.  Let me know when you're done."

"Ay, sir," Smee replied and went to get a bucket of hot water and soap. 

Hook ate his own breakfast quickly and downed his coffee, then got ready to go on deck.  He noticed Peter was only picking at his porridge, taking small, half-hearted bites.  "You need to eat it all."

Peter wrinkled his nose, "It hurts to swallow," he answered, his difficulty evident in the hoarseness of his voice.

Hook felt torn between two completely different reactions.  He felt irritation that Peter didn't obey him and instead made excuses not to eat.  He wanted to make the boy eat, either by force-feeding him or hitting him into submission… but he'd already hurt Peter enough for now.  He was held in check by this new feeling of sympathy for the boy.  He knew that Peter's throat hurt, and that it was because of what he had done.  He wanted to tell the boy not to worry, and eat what he could manage… but that would be showing weakness and letting the boy have his way.  _I'm the Captain; he should obey me without question… He's new to this, and he's recovering from a horrible ordeal… Since he couldn't reconcile the two thoughts, he instead left the room without a word.  He decided to let Smee handle it so that he could go about his duty.  _

Peter decided that he definitely liked Smee.   He remembered that Smee and Cookson had taken care of him when he was sick and hurt.  The old man, while a bit strange, was as gentle as he could be as he tended Peter's injuries, and warned the boy when he was about to do something uncomfortable.  He felt grateful for the hot drink; not only did it ease his throat, but he also felt more awake and energetic after drinking it.  He ate what he could stand of his porridge, and Smee didn't make him finish it off. 

Peter was, however, resistant at first to Smee washing him.  He hadn't cared about being naked earlier, but when his nudity was coupled with another person touching him he became extremely uncomfortable.  Smee relented and gave the boy the washcloth.  After a short while, though, Peter lost his energy and didn't feel like continuing the bath.  Smee wasn't going to let the boy stay dirty, so he reclaimed the rag (he didn't think the lad was scrubbing hard enough anyway), and soon Peter found his stiff muscles relaxing under the warm scrub.  His modesty vanished and he let Smee have at it, enjoying the new sensation.  Smee wanted to wash Peter's hair, too, and that's when new trouble started.

"Faith and begorrah, lad!  When's the last time ya brushed this mess?" Smee mused as he untied the pony tail.  The boy's long, brown hair looked fine at first look, but beneath the outer layer, it was tangled and matted together in an impossible mess.  Smee wasn't sure how he was going to wash it, so he took Hook's comb and tried to work out the knots. 

Peter only shrugged in response to Smee's question.  He had no clue how long ago it had been brushed:  he didn't own a brush or comb, and kept it tied back so he didn't have to worry about it.  Smee began trying to comb it, yanking and pulling at the knots.  Peter yelped at the pain and tried to pull away.  Smee was insistent that it was necessary and wouldn't let the boy go.  Peter was as loudly insistent that Smee should stop since messy hair wasn't life-threatening, and kept pulling away.  Smee and Peter played tug-of-war, and Smee accidentally kicked Peter's injured leg.  Howling in pain and desperate to get the old man to leave him alone, Peter broke free and scrambled to his pillow.  He pulled out the broken bottleneck and held it before him threateningly.  

"Leave it alone!" he yelled.

"Okay, lad, okay," Smee soothed the child, "I dinna mean ta hurt'cha, but…"

"What the Hell is going on in here!" Hook yelled, bursting through the door.  He saw Peter backed into the corner at the head of the cot, brandishing a weapon at Smee.  Assuming the worst, Hook growled, enraged, and charged the boy.

"No, Cap'n!  Wait!" Smee cried, but Hook didn't hear.  Hook dove at the wide-eyed boy, knocking the bosun aside.

Peter was stunned at Hook's entrance, and froze momentarily as the Captain attacked.  He had nowhere to go, so he braced himself against the wall and brought the glass up before him.  Hook knocked the boy's hand aside with his claw, grabbed him and threw him to the floor.  He bore down upon him, ready to punish Pan, when a jolt went through them both.  

Peter saw the man atop him, and suddenly he was reliving a nightmare.  He saw Hook over him, with those same hateful eyes as before, claw upraised.  He remembered what had come next, and it wasn't the sharp hook he feared.  He remembered the pain of the mental attack and what it had done to him.  "Nonononono, not again, please NO!" he wailed in terror and screamed.

Hook saw the boy beneath him and was struck by the thought of how similar this was to before.  The anger left him and he was about to get off when Peter began screaming, begging him not to do it again.  He saw the pure terror and panic there, and cringed within himself.  He scooped the child up and held him tight, trying to calm him.  After awhile, Peter's screams became sobs.  Hook kept the boy close, stood, and walked to a chair.  He saw his men at the door, staring in wonder and alarm.

"Back to your posts.  Smee, close the door," he ordered calmly as he sat.  Smee did as he was told, then walked to where his captain sat.  He gently pried the broken glass from Peter's grip and set it aside.

"He weren't goin' to hurt no-one, else he'd got you jus' now, Cap'n sir.  I hurt the lad accident-like, and he got scared I think is all," Smee explained what had happened in more detail.

Peter eventually cried himself out, and when Hook looked down, he saw the boy was asleep.  He sighed, "I over-reacted.   I assumed he was trying to escape again.  I think he remembers now what I did to him, and he thought I was going to do it again."

Hook looked at Peter's hair, the cause of this incident, and saw what Smee had told him about.  He agreed that it was a horrible mess, but wondered what the bosun had been thinking.  There was no way the tangles were going to comb out.  

"Go fetch the scissors, Smee.  Peter needs a haircut."


	5. Temptation

While Smee went to fetch the scissors, Hook roused Peter.  The boy woke easily and when he realized where he was, fought to release himself from the pirate's hold.  Hook tightened his grip painfully, and Peter stopped struggling.  He looked at Hook warily, expecting the man to attack him again.  He tried to speak, to tell the man to let him go, but found that no words would come.  Instead, a high, whistling noise came out, accompanied by a raw, scratchy pain in his throat.

Hook chuckled and shook his head.  "Don't speak," he admonished, "you screamed yourself mute.  Be quiet for awhile and I'll give you something to drink to ease it.  Give your throat a rest and your voice will return."  He poured some water from a jug on his desk into a cup and handed it to the boy.  Peter drank, savoring the cool relief it gave his poor throat.  When he was done, Hook took the cup and wet a handkerchief.  He went to wipe Peter's red, swollen face, but paused when the boy flinched and jerked away.

_This will be easier if I can ever get him to trust me.  Not likely to happen anytime soon, but I might as well start now.  He's never feared me before, but he's learning to now.  Fear is good, it will keep him obedient, but I don't want him terrorized.  _

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said with a sigh.  He set the boy on his knee so that they could see each other easier, but kept a grip on the boy's arm.  He saw Peter frown, disbelief evident.  "I know I attacked you.  You were holding a weapon on Smee, and I thought you were going to do something stupid again.  You remember now what else happened the night you tried to escape, don't you?"

Peter's eyes widened at the reminder, and he nodded slowly.

"I'm going to explain what's happened, because I want you to understand.  You are right to be afraid:  I have hurt you a lot in the week you've been here, in ways I've never hurt anyone before.  But I will not cause you pain unless you do something that I believe warrants it.  If you behave, you have no reason to fear me.  Now, as to what I did to you that night, I will never do that to you again, no matter what you do.  I'm sure that I cannot, even if I should ever want to.  Now listen.  When I took you, I used magic to disconnect you from Neverland."  Peter nodded and he continued, "That same spell created a connection between you and me, so that I could replace Neverland when you were lost to it, so that it wouldn't hurt you so much or drive you insane.  But I did it wrongly, and I interfered with how it should have been done, so that the connection was one-sided and pained you.  

"When you tried to escape, and attacked me…" Hook paused at the memory, finding that it still galled him.  "After I had given you special consideration and care, going so far as to devote a man I needed on deck to watch you, and allowing you to sleep in my cabin instead of the brig, you dared to abuse my trust and try to escape.  I became so angry that I wanted to hurt you.  You felt all of my anger, and were powerless.  I lost control of myself, and I did things that I regret.  I didn't realize that I was pouring all my anger and hate into you, or that it was hurting you.  Your mind broke under the strain, because you didn't have a way to stop it, and no way to return the feelings back to me." He saw that Peter remembered and understood.

"It wasn't until then that I realized something was wrong with you.  It was horrible," he glanced away from the intensity of Peter's stare, "I couldn't feel you anymore.  I almost killed you.  You wouldn't wake or move.  I was able to use the magic one last time to find you and put the pieces back together.  I had to take back all the anger and hate so that you could heal.  I repaired our connection so that it was right.  It is a mutual bonding, and is supposed to grow over time.  I don't think I can hurt you like that anymore; you can protect yourself if I were to ever try.  We're equal in it now, where before I forced it into you and tried to conquer you.  That's why it hurt you before but not now.  

"No matter how angry I get at you, I don't want you to panic thinking I will break your mind again.  I may hurt you, but it will be no worse than I would punish Jukes or any other man on my ship.  Do you understand?"

Peter nodded, relief palpable in his eyes.

Smee entered again, bearing the scissors.  Hook muttered to the boy, "We will talk more of this later, if you have questions. This bond is between you and me, and is no-one else's business."

Smee pulled out a footstool, and Hook set Peter upon it.  The boy frowned menacingly at the scissors and shook his head.  "Sorry, Pan.  You are not a wild-child any longer.  You're to be tamed now, and become a member of my crew.  I tolerate the crew to go about for days unwashed because water is precious at sea.  But I'll not have filthy vermin on my ship.  Especially since you are to be my cabin-boy," Peter crossed his arms defiantly and glared at that, "I expect you to bathe as regularly as possible, and keep neat.  I do not care how long or short you wear your hair, but yours is so filthy and matted that it is now unmanageable.  It is going to be cut, and you can grow it out again as long as you keep it clean and combed.  Now, you can sit still for your haircut, or I'll have you tied and make you sit for it."

Peter continued to glare angrily, but did not object as Smee began cutting.  He kept his mind occupied by drinking the hot, extremely weak coffee Smee supplied him with.  His throat eased and by the time the haircut was done he found he could speak softly without pain or coughing.

They left as much length as possible to his hair.  Once they had cut the older, more gnarled growth, Smee was able to comb out the knots in the remainder of his hair.  Peter didn't fight, even when it hurt, fearing they would cut it all off if he complained.  When they were done, it hung just above his shoulders (where before it had fallen to between his shoulder-blades), and could be tied back still if Peter wished.  Once it was detangled, Smee set about washing it.  He soaped and rinsed it three times before he was satisfied he had gotten all the dirt, leaves, and pixie-dust residue out.  

After that ordeal, Smee presented Peter with his new clothes.  

"Where are my old clothes?" Peter wondered aloud.  He wanted his familiar brown shorts and shirt, needing the comfort of things that were his.

"Sorry, lad.  Cap'n's orders were to burn most o' yer clothes," Smee said as he handed the new ones to Peter.

"You had been wearing them far too long.  They were filthy and ragged.  Besides, they were soaked in untold years worth of pixie-dust, and I don't want you to have contact with that substance ever again," Hook growled, wanting no argument on the matter.  

Peter said nothing further and began putting the clothes on.  The pants were black and a bit baggy, with the legs rolled up and hemmed.  The white shirt buttoned up, and was likewise a bit baggy, sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows.  He was also given a belt with some new holes put in so it would fit his small waist, a pair of stocking socks, and his old boots (the cut in the right one had been repaired with some rawhide).

When he was dressed (he left the boots off to save his sore foot), Hook stood him before the full length mirror so he could see.  Peter stared at his reflection, astounded.  He looked so different; he almost thought he was seeing another boy.  Despite the bruised face, he thought he looked delightful – except he would rather wear his own clothes.

"I'm a pirate," he muttered in disbelief.

Hook chuckled, he himself impressed with how Peter looked.  "No, boy.  You have a lot to learn and prove before you can call yourself a sailor, much less a pirate."

"I don't want to be a pirate," Peter grumbled.

"Well, you lost, boy.  So now you get to learn to be a pirate.  Don't fight it.  Accept it and you'll become the greatest pirate to sail the seas!  Killing you would have been a terrible waste.  I am going to get much more satisfaction from watching you grow up into the man I have seen within you."  Hook turned Peter toward him and knelt down to his eye level.  He knew Peter was rather conceited, and decided to try appealing to that conceit.  "You stood against me, James Hook, through countless battles.  You, a little boy, bested the most feared pirate to sail the Spanish Main!"  _Fine, so I'm a bit conceited, too, but it's true.  _"That day I had you tied to the mast, ready to kill you, you changed what I wanted to do with you.  Even with death looking you in the eye, you stood proud, unafraid.  I suddenly thought, 'What if Peter Pan were a pirate?  One of my own men?'  The thought took my breath away.  With your cunning, speed, agility, courage and skill, coupled with my knowledge, strength, experience and ruthlessness – we would be unstoppable.  You will have the greatest adventures, Peter.  You'll grow up and one day have your own ship and crew.  You'll be 'Captain Pan' and your enemies will fear your very name!"

Peter had found himself caught up in Hook's vision, and smiled at the idea.  It definitely appealed to him.  He looked at the mirror again and imagined himself as Captain Pan, scourge of the seven seas.  He laughed, and then stopped.  He thought of his friends and what they would say if they saw how he looked.  The Lost Boys would be impressed, but he knew Tink would be disappointed.  He saw his old self in the mirror, a youth clad in brown, flying with his friends by his side.

Not even realizing he was speaking aloud, he mused quietly, "I've already had great adventures, the likes of which no pirate's ever seen.  And now I'll never have them again.  I don't want to be feared.  My boys followed me because they loved and trusted me.  Now they think I'm dead, and I know that they're sad.  I don't want to grow up to be a captain.  I was meant to be a child, and live forever.  It's what my mommy wanted for me.  I can feel myself dying already!  How can something that dies be right?"  He felt the tears coming and stood up straighter.  "But, it's done now.  I have few choices left, and only one that doesn't involve my death."  He looked at Hook, who was staring at him speechless.  He smiled wistfully and looked beyond to Smee.

"Thank you for my clothes, Mr. Smee.  They look grand.  I'll try to take care of them," he said and coughed as his voice cracked.

"Yer welcome, lad.  Don' worry if ye gets 'im dirty or ripped.  Ol' Smee will fix 'em up right, and show ya how to do it, too.  Ye'll be growin' out of 'em eventually, so ye'll get new ones later on," Smee babbled, happy for the boy's gratitude.

Suddenly, Peter felt dizzy and sat down hard.

"Boy?" Hook asked anxiously.

"I'm fine, I just needed to sit," he muttered, closing his eyes to keep the vertigo at bay.

"Well, you can sit outside, then.  I want you where I can keep an eye on you.  You will watch the men work, and I want you to pay attention.  You need to learn how things are done on this ship.  You have a lot to learn and your lessons start today," Hook helped Peter stand and led him out onto the deck.


	6. Nightmares

That first day, Peter spent as much time sleeping on deck as he did watching.  Since it was the boy's first day, Hook let him rest as much as he needed.  _He has plenty of time to learn, but he has to recover first.  As the days went by, Peter regained his strength and was given tasks to perform while he learned.  He was still too weak to do any heavy labor, and too ignorant of ship's life to know what to do.  He was given nets and sails to mend, and Smee showed him how to sew.  Hook would point out parts of the ship, explaining what they were called and how they worked.  If a crewman was doing something close to where Peter sat, he would tell Peter what he was doing and why.  Later, Hook would quiz the boy, to see what he had learned and understood.  As the boy grew stronger, he also become more resistant, and balked at first to learning.  His belligerence and defiance earned him various light punishments (light only because Hook knew Peter was too weak to take much, so it was limited to missing a meal, extra duty, occasionally a knock or a slap).  But Peter was easily bored and terribly lonely.  Doing something helped him keep from thinking about home so much, so he grudgingly began to do what he was told.  He soon discovered he had an interest in a lot of the workings of the ship.  When Hook allowed him to steer one day, he asked dozens of questions pertaining to how it was done, and wouldn't stop until he understood the fundamentals of the steerage, from mainsail to rudder.  As days turned to weeks, Peter adjusted to the ship.  He grew stronger and was given more duties and responsibilities.  _

 His duty as cabin-boy was to serve the Captain.  He was expected to keep the Captain's quarters clean, bring him his meals, see to the laundry, clean up after Short Tom and generally be at hand when Hook called.  He also had more mundane duties:  swabbing the deck, dishes, take shifts as lookout, and lending a hand as needed.  Anyone on ship could task him, but the Captain's chores took priority.

He adjusted, but wouldn't accept.  He made sure everyone knew he only did his chores because he had no real alternative.  He kept up his spirits, and never gave up that he would one day escape.

So passed Peter's days.  His nights were another matter.  Cabin-boys traditionally slept in or near the captain's quarters, to be on hand if they were needed in the night.  Peter didn't care for this arrangement, though, but Hook insisted.  Hook valued his privacy, but he wanted the boy nearby, especially after Peter's escape attempt.  The first week went by without incident, and Peter slept well and regained his strength.  But then things took a turn, and by the end of the second week, Hook was considering making the boy sleep in the brig.  

Peter often had nightmares.  Neither Hook nor Peter realized that this was nothing new in itself, but Tink could have told them had she been there.  In sleep the memory spell faltered, and Peter remembered things he had been made to forget.  But when he awoke, the dreams and memories were gone again, leaving Peter knowing that he had dreamed, but clueless as to what it had been about.  Mostly he would sleep content, remembering the happy adventures he had had.  But often, especially now after the recent traumas he had endured, the bad memories prevailed, and even the good ones brought sadness.  Soon, he was having nightmares every night.  Each night they became more frequent and more intense than the night before, and Hook found himself being awakened more often by the boy's cries.  He tried at first to wake Peter from the bad dreams, but quickly learned that Peter could not be roused from them.  

The lack of rest took its toll on both of them, and after a couple of nights they both became moody and easily angered.  Peter became more belligerent and defiant, often deliberately provoking Hook for some strange reason.  Hook in turn became more vicious and more easily provoked, and Mason or Mullins would have to intervene to keep Hook from attacking the boy.  To prevent himself from doing something he would regret, Hook began lodging Peter in the crew quarters for the night.  The men, exhausted from their own duties, were able to sleep through most of Peter's outbursts, so it seemed at first a good arrangement.  But the men on watch while Peter slept told Hook that they could even hear the boy's cries while they went about their duties on deck.  

            Peter's third night sleeping with the men was a disaster.  He tossed and talked, often screaming loudly.  A good portion of Peter's words were in fey, which put Mullins on edge to the point that the man set up a hammock on deck so he could sleep.  Mason finally carried the boy to the brig so the others wouldn't be disturbed.  

Peter awoke that morning with a searing headache.  He was confused to find himself in the brig, especially since the cell door was unlocked.  He eased himself up and walked to the galley for breakfast, limping slightly on his healing foot and holding the wall to keep himself from falling.

"Ah, Petey-boy!  You finally avake now?  You be in big trouble if you don' get Cap'n's food to him soon," Cookson greeted the boy.  He placed the tray with Peter's and Hook's breakfasts on the table for Peter to pick up.

"My head hurts.  Codfish can get his own breakfast today," Peter groused.  He poured some water into a bowl and began to wash his face.  

"Talk like that make you hurt pretty bad.  Cap'n Hook is in better mood now that you not keep him avake at night, but rest of crew mighty pissed off.  Vat you dream of that make you scream so loud?"

Peter sighed.  He figured he'd had more nightmares, because of how bad he felt.  He wished he understood what was wrong with him now.  He'd never had anything like this happen to him before.  "I don't know.  Maybe I dreamed Hook kidnapped me and made me his cabin-boy, and every day he hurt me… oh, wait, that really happened.  I guess I'm still having my nightmare."

"As bad as that nightmare is, boy, trust me it can get much worse," came the deep cold voice of the Captain from behind.

Peter groaned, but didn't turn.  He really didn't want to look at Hook right now.  He was upset, and knew if he faced the captain, he would mouth off again and provoke the man.  Mason and Mullins weren't nearby to save him right now.

"Since you have finally decided to wake up, I expect you in my quarters as fast as you can walk with that tray.  For your sake, you had best not drop it," and the man turned and left.

_Yep, he's angry.  I can feel it tingling inside.  Now if only I can remember to keep my mouth shut…_  Peter picked up the tray and carefully made his way up the steps to the deck.  Getting from the hatch to the cabin was difficult.  His foot was much better now days and he barely limped.  But the sunlight was killing his head, and he could hardly see from the light and the dizziness.  _Just one night of sleep - sleep without dreams, and I'll be fine.  Maybe I can get Codfish to knock me out.  I slept fine when I was sick and hurt._

He almost lost it at one point, but Jukes (of all the crew, he got along with Jukes the least) saw him going over and steadied him.  He mumbled his thanks and finally made it to the door and went in.  Hook was sitting at his desk writing in his logs.  Peter crossed the room and slid the tray onto the desk roughly, nearly spilling the drinks.  

Hook knew Peter was having difficulty.  As Peter's nightmares worsened, they intruded into Hook's own dreams more vividly.  The captain knew what Peter dreamed, and understood why the boy got no rest when he slept.  He himself only remained relatively unaffected because he was able to recognize quickly that they were not his own dreams, and separate himself from the fear and sadness that Peter felt.  But this was getting ridiculous.  _His discomfort is no excuse for his attitude.  If I let him get away with it now, I set a dangerous precedent.  _"Well, Mr. Pan, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Peter glared and stood still, hoping Hook would just dismiss him without breakfast.  He didn't feel much like eating anyway.  Hook glared back, expecting an answer, so finally Peter said, "Sorry.  I overslept."

Hook's eyes narrowed, and he dug his claw into the wood of his desk to keep himself from using it on Pan.  "That's two.  Two offences today and I haven't even eaten breakfast yet.  Your tardiness I could excuse as a minor offense.  Your surliness and lack of respect I cannot.  You will learn, one way or another, to address me as 'Sir' and 'Captain'.  I grow tired of reminding you every single day.  Do you think you can go the rest of the day without a third offense?  Or will I actually have to administer your first flogging?"

"No, sir," Peter replied lowly, deliberately not clarifying which question he was answering.  They continued to glare at each other, Peter keeping his eyes focused on Hook because the rest of the room was beginning to dance, Hook keeping his eyes focused on Peter while he calmed himself enough so he could make the boy leave without hitting him.  Suddenly, Peter felt something warm on his upper lip, and saw Hook's eyes widen in surprise.  He wiped his nose and saw blood on the back of his hand.  There was a vague sensation of falling.

So quickly he didn't realize what was happening, Hook had lifted him up and set him on the desk.  "Peter?" he asked worriedly, and pressed a handkerchief to the boy's nose.  

Peter felt Hook's concern grow and his anger disappear, and the unexpected shift of emotions threw him off balance.  He hadn't realized he had been reaching out to sense Hook and pulled himself back quickly.  He teetered on the edge of the desk and grabbed the pirate's arm to steady himself.  

"I'm sorry, sir.  I don't understand what's wrong with me.  I've had bad dreams before, and this never happened.  Something's changed.  My head hurts a lot," he said softly.  

"It's probably another side-effect of the damned spell," Hook muttered in disgust.  "Can you walk?"  Peter nodded and Hook helped the boy down, "Go back to bed.  Try to get some more sleep.  If you can't, tell Cookson I said to give you something to make you sleep."  

Peter stared at the man, confused by the strange change.  Hook gave him a gentle shove towards the door, and added, "I'm feeling generous now, because something is very wrong with you.  I don't want you damaged, which is what will happen if you keep provoking me."

"Ay, sir," Peter mumbled.  He didn't have much hope that going back to sleep would help any, but at least this way he wouldn't have to do anything that would get him in trouble.  He stumbled back to the crew quarters, unaware that Hook was following close behind him.  When he got below, he threw himself into his hammock.  He jumped a bit when Hook pulled a blanket over him.  "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Since you have become difficult these past few days, I decided to make sure you actually did what I told you.  And I wasn't sure if you were going to make it.  Is your nose still bleeding?"

Peter pulled the cloth away, and shook his head when no more blood leaked out.  

"Good," Hook said and left.  Shortly afterwards, Peter dozed off.

An hour later, everyone on the ship heard Peter screaming.  Hook swore loudly, and yelled for someone to go make the boy be quiet.  A few minutes later, a terrified Jukes ran back on deck, calling for the captain to come quick.

Hook ran to where the gunner stood.  "What is it, boy?"

"Pan is yelling like hell hounds are after him, but he ain't asleep.  He's sitting up in the bed, eyes wide open.  He wouldn't look at me when I came in, like he didn't see me.  His nose is bleedin' like someone punched him!" Jukes gasped.

Hook quickly went to Peter's bunk.  Before he got there, the wails stopped, and the silence was somehow worse than the screams.  He went in, and saw Peter sitting on the bed, just as Jukes described.  He made no sound, but his mouth moved as if he were trying to speak.  

"Peter!" Hook tried to get the boy to respond, but nothing registered in his face.  Hook could feel the terror and despair coming off the child in waves, and knew the boy was still asleep even though his eyes were open.  _Dammit!  I don't know what to do for him.  _He picked the boy up, sat in the hammock and held Peter to him.  As he wiped the boy's face clean, he spoke softly, telling him it was okay, that it was safe now.  Peter's eyes closed and he slowly began to relax.  Hook reached out and felt the negative emotions fade away.  Soon, Peter drifted into a deep slumber, without dreams to disturb him.

_Thank God.  Maybe now he can rest.  I wonder if this will work every time._  Hook was willing to give it a try.  Maybe the only thing boy really needed was some reassurance.  He put Peter back in the hammock and left him to sleep.  

By noon, Peter awoke feeling much better.  He ate his lunch with Hook, and they managed to not disagree too much.  Afterwards, Peter returned to duty and finished out the day with a minimum of disagreement and no major infractions.  He slept again in the crew quarters that night, and once more had his nightmare.  Hook had informed Mason about what he had done to calm Peter, and in the night the carpenter tried to apply it himself.  Peter wouldn't respond to Mason's attempts, fighting the man as he tried to hold him.  Finally the man gave up and took the boy onto the deck so he would not keep the other men awake.  Hook had still been up, pouring over a book, and heard them outside.  He went out and took Peter from Mason, who explained his failed attempt to pacify the child.  The boy immediately began to calm, and before Hook could even dismiss the man, he was sleeping quietly again.

"I guess he likes you, Cap'n," Mason said with a chuckle.

"Don't be daft.  The boy hates me, how could he ever feel otherwise?  But if I'm the only one that can calm him down, then I suppose he will be sleeping in my quarters again.  Set up the cot in my room where it was before."  Hook led the man to his cabin, and laid Peter on his bed while he waited for Mason to finish.  Peter slept soundly in his cot for the rest of the night, and the next day he was almost cheerful.

Every night after that, Peter slept in the cabin.  Hook did not tell him how he would hold him till his nightmares subsided, but the boy knew.  Sometimes he would awaken and find himself in Hook's arms, and knew he had had a bad dream.  Peter was an intelligent boy, and he guessed that Hook was doing it to help him sleep.  He figured if Hook wasn't going to bring it up then neither was he.  He felt it was odd that the man who had given him so much pain and grief would do something to make him feel better, and was more than a little mortified the first few times he had found himself in that position.  But he also felt safe there, and knew that the monsters in his dreams could not hurt him while the Captain was around.  On those nights he would quietly go back to sleep, the beat of Hook's heart following him down into more pleasant dreams. 


	7. Lessons

"Not like that, you idiot!" Jukes yelled in disgust.  He snatched the cleaning rod away from Peter and shoved the boy to the ground.

"I was doing it like you said," Peter snarled as he picked himself back up.  "It's not my fault you can't give good directions.  Clean Long Tom yourself, then!"

"I didn't want you messin' with my cannon in the first place.  Now I have to check it to make sure you didn't break anything.  Why don't you do everyone a favor and go jump over the railing.  You don't belong here," Jukes taunted.

"I already tried that," Peter growled angrily, but held himself in check.  He wanted nothing more than to fight the gunner, but he knew the crew would take Jukes's side.  Jukes was one of them, and Peter was their prisoner.  He held no illusions that anyone would care that Jukes constantly antagonized him and tried at every turn to humiliate and fight him.  Peter didn't understand why though, and it frustrated him to no end.  In Neverland, Jukes would have never acted this way toward him.  In Neverland, Peter could fly, and no-one could beat him.  But this was the Jolly Roger, and Peter couldn't escape.  He was the lowest rank on ship, and Jukes apparently liked to lord it over him.  _We could have been friends, you're a child like me.  But you're too much of a pirate I guess.  _

"I didn't ask to come here.  I didn't want to touch your cannon.  But I am here, and the Captain said for me to help you clean Long Tom.  If you don't want my help, then fine.  I have other things I have to do but don't want to," Peter said through gritted teeth.

Billy smiled mischievously, "No, actually, Cap'n Hook said for you to help _me_.  Since you're too much of a klutz to be trusted with the cannon, you can take one of my other chores so I can take the time to do this right by myself.  So, me bucko, you've got duty at the bilge pump.  Have fun."

"As long as I don't have to look at you, then it's an improvement," Peter replied lightly.  He turned and headed below, hearing Jukes laugh at him as he went.  Inside, though, he was shaking with fury.  _Keep pushing me, Billy, and I'll remind you why you pirates feared me._

Billy hummed happily as he went about his daily inspection and tweaking of his cannon.  He wasn't worried about any damage, Pan had actually been cleaning the barrel correctly.  That had been the worst part, though.  He didn't want Pan touching his cannon, and the fact that he was doing it, and was learning so quickly how to work it, galled Jukes deeply.  

He resented Pan's presence on the ship.  Billy thought back to his own first days on this ship, after the pirates had found him marooned.  The crew had been cruel to him.  They had delighted in giving him the worst duties, sabotaging his chores so that he had to do them again.  They had taunted him at every opportunity, and Billy had lost count of the number of nights he had cried himself to sleep in the brig.  He had had to sleep there until he had proved that he could be trusted enough to sleep with the crew.  He had even served a stint as Hook's unofficial cabin-boy, until he had proved himself of much more value as a gunner and a blacksmith.  Only Mullins had ever shown him kindness in those first dark days, and even at that it had been nearly unendurable.  But he had worked hard, jumped though the hoops, and earned his place on board.  

The only thing that had helped him through the worst was the belief that the crew weren't being malicious, but instead that it was what everyone who was new to ship's life went through.  That it was a part of paying your dues and earning respect from the old-salts.  That's what Mullins had told him.  

In Neverland, Peter Pan had been the bane of their existence.  He was the reason they couldn't leave, and he constantly tormented the crew with his childish pranks.  They had suffered humiliation at his hands, and they had suffered torment at Hook's hand when Pan had enraged the captain, and he took it out on them.  But Pan had been defeated and pressed into service.  And was the brat treated like Billy had been?  No.

Sure, he had been sick at first, and Hook had done something bad to him so that he nearly died.  But when Billy had been brought aboard, he had been nearly starved to death, and had also been ill for awhile.  But now Pan was better, and doing duty.  No-one picked on him, though.  The men did nothing to torment the boy, even though he was a prisoner, and therefore even easier prey than Billy had been.  Instead, they showed him a small measure kindness or ignored him if they could.  They acted like they were a bit afraid of him… but Jukes knew that Pan's wings were clipped and his teeth were blunt.  He was an ordinary kid now, and no more deserving of special consideration than Jukes had been.  But Pan got special consideration.  He slept in Hook's cabin, and took his meals with the man.  He was given leeway when he broke the rules or disobeyed orders.  It wasn't fair.  So Jukes made it his duty to give Pan all the grief that he thought was the boy's due.  In Neverland, Pan had been the golden child who got everything he wanted.  As far as Jukes was concerned, the same thing seemed to be happening on the Jolly Roger, and he hated Pan for it.

There was a war going on aboard the ship, and its captain didn't have the slightest clue.  The crew knew, but most of them stayed out of it.  Jukes and Pan were the combatants, and their weapons were malicious pranks, underhanded tricks, and verbal assaults.  But the rest of the men didn't worry about it too much.  They dismissed it as childish games, and decided that as long as no one was hurt or nothing was destroyed, the two boys were welcome to expend their extra energy playing.

No one realized that the pranks were escalating, or that they were soon going to get seriously out of hand.

"But I didn't do it!" Peter yelled in frustration.

Hook glared at the boy angrily, and glanced up at where his flag should have been flying.  Mr. Mullins had just finished removing the thing that had fluttered up there and was restoring the proper jolly-roger to its rightful place.  "Who did it then?  I found my flag under your bed.  You are the only one who ever called me 'Codfish', which is what is written on that piece of cloth up there, with that caricature of me on it.  No-one else in my crew is stupid enough to do anything that childish."

"I'm not stupid, and I didn't do it," Peter insisted again, turning very red.

"You disappoint me, boy.  I try to be patient, to let you adjust.  But you still try to pull your pranks and make a fool of me!  If you insist on behaving like a child, then I shall have to treat you like one!" Hook roared at the boy.

"I AM A CHILD," Peter screamed back, enraged that the captain so easily assumed that he had done it, without giving him the chance to prove that it had been Billy.

Hook snarled and grabbed Peter roughly.  The rest of the crew were on deck, watching the exchange nervously.  Mason got himself ready in case Hook tried to kill Peter, so that he could intervene.  But instead, Hook did something surprising.  He dragged Peter to a crate and sat down on it.  He picked the boy up and before Peter even realized what was happening, he was laying face-down across Hook's lap.  The pirate captain then proceeded to give Peter Pan the first spanking of his long childhood.  Peter was horrified, and kicked and screamed, but that only seemed to make Hook hit him harder.  He finally quit struggling and merely cried while he waited for the man to finish and let him up.  He could hear the other men laughing and jeering at him, and the embarrassment and pain together were too much to bear.  Finally, Hook decided it was enough, and pushed the child off of his lap onto the deck.  Peter crouched defensively and looked up.

"If you don't want to grow up, that's fine.  I will continue to treat you like a child then.  You'll see eventually that it is better to be a man on my ship and gain a measure of respect, than to be a whipping-boy.  Maybe then you'll grow up," Hook explained coldly.

Peter wiped the tears from his eyes, and tried to glare at the men who were still laughing at him.  But the shame was too much, and the happy smile that Jukes gave him was enough to drive him insane.  "I hate you!" he screamed at everyone and no-one in particular, and ran to the cabin.

"BOY! I haven't dismissed you," Hook called, but Peter didn't even look back.  Hook ground his teeth together, then turned on his men.  "Back to work, you dogs!  I have no patience left, and do not doubt I'll do the same to any of you that press me today."  He glared as the crew jumped to return to their duties, then stormed to the cabin to deal with his boy.

When he entered the room, he didn't see Peter anywhere.  But he could hear the quiet sobs, and knew the troublesome child was hiding somewhere.  "Boy, come out, now," he said quietly.

"Why don't you believe me?" Peter's voice came from under the bed, but he didn't come out.

"No one else would have written…"

"I CAN'T READ!" Peter shrieked, cutting the man off.

Hook was floored.  "What?" he asked, confused.

"I can't read.  I don't know how to write.  I don't even know what most of the letters look like.  I can't spell 'codfish', much less write it.  But you don't care about that.  You just wanted a reason to hurt me, so you wouldn't even let me explain."

Hook went to his chair and sat down.  He wasn't sure what to do now.  He had never thought much about the boy's education level.  He had known that he was going to school the child eventually, but he had assumed that Peter could already read.  _I assumed he was guilty, and judged him without even considering any other options.  He suddenly felt angry, not at Peter but at his crew.  One of his men had done it and framed Peter.  The guilty one had stood by and watched Peter being punished unjustly.  Hook didn't like being lied to, especially by one of his own crew.  __God damn it!  How will I ever get the boy to trust me?  Hook sighed, _He has no reason to trust me, I've done nothing to earn his trust.__

"Peter, come out," he said again, softly this time.  "I didn't know you couldn't read.  I was wrong to assume you did it, and I was wrong to not let you vouch for yourself.  But you're wrong too.  I don't want a reason to hurt you.  I don't _need_ a reason to do it.  If I wanted to hurt you, I would do it whenever I wanted, without excuse.  No-one on this ship would say a word.  You are a member of my crew now, though a hostile one.  If I merely wanted to torture you, I would have made you my slave.  You'd do the same work, but you would have none of the benefits.  I denied you one of your benefits, though.  A crewman has the right to explain himself, and contest any charges against him.  And as captain, I should have given you that right.  I'm sorry.  Please come out."

_I might as well,_ Peter thought, _he'll just get angry and drag me out if I don't come.  At least if I come out now, he's in a better mood.  _Cautiously, Peter crawled out from under the bed.  His rear hurt him a lot, so much that he couldn't sit and even bending at his waist pained him.  The tears still fell from his eyes, though his sobs had subsided, and his face was red and swollen.  He glared at the man distrustfully, and backed up slowly till he bumped into the wall.  He hissed in pain as his sore backside made contact with the wood, but he kept close to the wall to keep as much distance between them as he possibly could. 

"Who would have framed you?" Hook asked him, frowning.  Peter said nothing, his lips clamping together firmly.  "I wronged you, Peter.  Tell me who did it and I will see to it that they get worse than I gave you… much worse.  Not only did they taunt me with that prank, they lied to me by not coming forward when I accused you.  I will not tolerate that."

"I'll deal with the one that did it on my own.  It's our war, and I'll win it," Peter replied in a cold, even voice.

_That he might, if I let him.  _Should_ I let him? "Very well.  You deal with this.  But I warn you:  your 'war' had best not endanger the welfare of my ship, or my crew.  If it does, you and your opponent will have to face MY wrath."_

Peter nodded in agreement.

"Now then, you can't read or write.  What letters do you know?"  Hook asked cheerfully, trying to distract the boy.

"I know there's an 'A', a 'Z', and … an 'I'… but I don't know what they look like."  Hook frowned slightly at that, trying to decide how to tackle the boy's woeful lack of education.  Peter, however, thought Hook might think he was stupid, and felt a flush of shame.  He had never needed to read, and had never before cared about it.  But he didn't want Hook to think he was dumb, for some reason it mattered to him.  His ignorance bothered him at first, but then he felt annoyed at Hook for judging him.

"Besides," Peter continued, "I don't want to learn how to read, or do numbers, or anything like that.  Learning that boring stuff makes you grow up, and you only want me to learn so I will become a big ugly man like you are!"  Peter held his breath, realizing he had gotten carried away.  He waited for Hook to yell or hit him.  He didn't want either, but he wanted schooling less, so he figured it would be a good trade.

Hook glared at the boy, counting slowly in his head.  It was a new trick he had figured out, and it had saved Peter broken bones on many occasions these past few weeks.  "I know a great many grown men who cannot read, or add, and know nothing of history.  I knew a great many children who know all those things, and still enjoyed playing games and causing trouble.  Learning doesn't age you.  Experience ages you.  Every man and boy on this ship can read and at least do simple math, except you."

Peter fidgeted and looked down.  He still stood against the wall, and looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Come sit down," Hook ordered.  Peter grimaced, but walked over and tried to sit at the desk.  It pained him a lot, but he sat anyway, a soft moan escaping him as he settled his weight into the seat.  "If it hurts too much, you can stand.  Next time I decide to give you a spanking, even if you don't think it's deserved, you had best stay still.  Fighting me will only make me angrier, and I won't be paying attention to how hard I'm hitting you."

Peter nodded and stood beside the desk. 

"Now, I don't think you'll be much use on deck right now, so we will start your reading lesson today."

"I don't want to learn," Peter protested stubbornly.

Hook was about to threaten the boy and try to scare him into paying attention.  But then another idea crossed his mind.  He had seen an insatiable curiosity in the boy; the trick was getting him interested.  It wasn't until Peter got interested in manning the wheel that Hook could get him to learn anything meaningful about how the ship sailed.  After he got going, Peter had learned every inch of the ship's steerage, mainsail to rudder, and understood how they interacted.  From there, getting him to learn the rest of the ship had been easy.

He dug around in his desk drawer until he pulled out an old writing slate and some chalk.  He carefully printed something on the slate, and showed it to Peter.  "Do you at least recognize this?"

Peter glanced at it and shook his head.

"It's your name."

"What?" Peter said incredulously. 

"It says Peter Pan," Hook explained.  He pointed to each letter and named them.

Peter watched closely, and then traced the letters lightly with his finger.  "How does it say that, Captain?"

"Well, to tell you that, I'll have to teach you the letters and the sounds they make.  But I'm not going to waste my time if you don't want to learn.  I have other things I need to do."  He stood and acted like he was going to put the slate away.

"Wait," Peter said.  He was interested, and thought it would be grand if he could write his name.  _Besides, if I'm here, I don't have to face the crew right now.  Hook stopped and stared at Peter expectantly.  Peter held the man's gaze for a bit, considering.  "Show me, please Captain.  I want to try it.  Maybe it won't be so bad."  Hook still said nothing, and Peter thought Hook had changed his mind about teaching him, to be mean, so he added, "I don't want you to think I'm stupid.  I want to show you I can do it."_

Hook smiled suddenly, and Peter got a distinct impression that he had been manipulated.  "Very well, Peter.  We will start with the alphabet.  Fortunately, there's a little song that will help you remember all the letters."

Hook was a demanding teacher and not given to patience.  By the end of the short lesson, both he and Peter were aggravated and ready to be done.  But Peter knew the song and could identify the first several letters – both upper and lower case.

That night, Hook did something that was new to both of them.  He had a great many books on his bookshelves, but he also had a crate of some others that he had stored below.  These books he had found in a cave in Neverland, covered with dust but wonderfully preserved.  They were mostly children's stories and other fiction, and Hook had not done much more than flip through them before he packed them away.  One note of curiosity though, was in the dates some of the books:  many of them had a 'copyright' date, and some of them were dated a hundred or a hundred-fifty years in his own future.  Others, in condition just as good, seemed ancient, handwritten in Latin, Greek, or other obscure languages.  From this selection, he picked one that looked promising. 

Peter lay on his side on his cot, still too tender to want to lie on his back.  Hook sat up in his own bed and opened the book.  "Listen, Peter.  I'm going to read something to you."

"What?  A bed-time story?" Peter asked, clearly in disbelief.  "Why would you want to read me a bed-time story?"

"Its called 'Treasure Island', I haven't read it but I think I like the title.  I am going to read it to you because I want you to find a good reason to learn to read."

Hook cleared his throat and began to read from the book.  His plan worked, Peter was hooked.  Peter loved stories, and couldn't get enough of them.  He listened, enraptured as Hook read the first few chapters.  When the man closed the book, Peter protested loudly, wanting him to finish it.

"If you do your chores quickly and correctly tomorrow, and don't get into trouble, I will read some more to you tomorrow night."

"Yes, sir," Peter answered.  He thought for a moment.  "Captain?  If I learn, then I could read the book myself one day?"

Hook nodded, smiling, "If you learn to read, you can read any book I have."

"They all have stories in them?"

"Most do.  Some contain facts.  Some have many stories in them."

"Then I want to learn to read tomorrow."

"It will take awhile.  You can't learn that much all at once."

"But I'll try, sir," Peter closed his eyes.

Hook doused his light and was settling down when he heard a sound.  "Boy?  Are you crying again?"

"No," Peter said, swallowing his tears.  "I don't remember anyone ever reading me a bed-time story before.  If I wanted to hear a story, I had to fly to the real world and listen at windows to mothers telling their children stories.  I can't do that anymore.  I miss the stories."

"Well, when you learn to read, you will have lots of stories to read."

"I still miss flying… and I miss home.  But the story was nice; I want to hear more of it tomorrow."

Hook said nothing, just rolled over to go to sleep.  After awhile, he heard Peter begin crying again, as he cried every night when the boy thought Hook was asleep.  The homesickness and loneliness the boy felt were overwhelming at night, and no matter how much he pulled back, Hook could still feel it.  At first Hook had rather enjoyed listening to that sound.  But recently he began to doubt himself and wondered if maybe he should have just killed Peter or left him alone, but done either in Neverland.  _Stop being weak!  Did Pan feel bad for me when I cried at the loss of my hand?  Did he regret tormenting me and humiliating me?  No!  He's just a selfish child who is upset that someone finally decided to end his fun and raise him right._

He lay awake, listening until Peter had cried himself to sleep.  Hook sighed and let himself drift off to get some rest before Peter woke him again with his dreams.  _That boy should appreciate me more.  I let him sleep on a bed in my quarters, instead of a pallet in the brig.  I made him a crewman instead of a slave.  I treated his injuries.  I comfort him when he has nightmares.  I try to teach him, to rescue him from ignorant savagery.  And he resists me at nearly every turn, too proud to accept his defeat.  But… he's come a long way already.  It won't be long before he's tamed.  What a man he will be!  Hook felt a surge of anticipation and pride at the vision.  __My boy, he thought as he went to sleep.  Peter did not have nightmares, and they both slept well through the night._

_If he likes his cannon so much, then I'll make sure he gets to spend plenty of quality time with it,_ Peter thought with a smile.  Billy had just finished his morning inspection of the cannon, and had gone back down below.  Peter took a quick look around and saw that no one was nearby to see what he was doing.  Very quickly, he retrieved a bucket he had hidden behind some barrels earlier, and poured the thick, foul-smelling contents into Long Tom's barrel, and then dumped another bucket of wood-shavings in after it.  _It'll take him days to clean this out. _Peter giggled quietly, then took up the buckets and beat a retreat before anyone could see what he had done.

It had been three days since the incident with the flag, and Peter had not exacted any retribution.  Jukes himself had been impressed with the reaction the prank had received, and had not done anything else to antagonize Peter, choosing instead to spend his time watching for the retaliation he knew would come.  But after three days… Pan was known for his impatience, so Jukes was beginning to believe his opponent had given up in defeat.

"Peter!  My quarters, now!" Hook ordered as he went to his cabin.  Peter looked up in alarm, thinking perhaps he had been found out.  But then he remembered what Hook had said at breakfast:  he was to begin his lessons at late morning everyday, and go until lunch, and then resume them in the evening after supper.  He sighed in relief and made his way to the cabin.  He felt a bit disappointed that he wouldn't see Billy's reaction when he found his present, but he figured he'd hear the commotion anyway.  Jukes was nothing if not loud when he was upset, with a vocabulary only Hook could outdo.  

A few minutes later, Jukes and Mason climbed on deck, each carrying one end of a barrel of powder.  Jukes was smiling happily, despite the heavy burden he was carrying.  It had been a long time since he had gotten to fire Long Tom, since now there weren't any Lost Boys to shoot at.  He had complained to the Captain that he was getting rusty, and needed to make sure the cannon would fire from time to time.  Hook didn't want to waste the powder and shot, but he also recognized it would be useless to have either if the cannon didn't work  Jukes was to test the cannon once a week now, to make sure it was still working and the sight was true.  Humming happily to himself and giving the tiger effigy an occasional pat, Jukes loaded the cannon.

Peter looked up in alarm when he heard the explosion.  "What was that?" he gasped, feeling an unease growing in the pit of his stomach.

"Long Tom.  I told Jukes to test fire it today to make sure it's battle-worthy," Hook replied absently, but stopped suddenly when he heard the shouts of alarm outside.  Like a shot, Peter jumped up from the desk and ran outside, Hook hot behind him.

Chaos reigned on the deck.  Long Tom was a smoking mess, and it was easily seen by even Peter that the cannon had backfired and exploded.  Across the deck, a good fifteen feet away, lay Jukes.  Mullins and Starkey were huddled over him, checking the boy over and shouting for water and bandages.  Billy wasn't moving or making a sound.

Hook crossed to where Billy lay in a few great strides.  "What the devil happened here?  Mason!  Check the cannon!  Mullins!  Get the boy to the galley and give him whatever he needs.  Move it!" he shouted, breaking the men out of their panic and giving them the direction they needed.  

A few moments later, Mason shouted from the cannon, "Sabotage!  Somebody fouled the cannon up with some kind of gunk!  That's what made it explode in Billy's face."

Peter stared in shock, looking slowly back and forth between the ruined cannon and the fallen child.  _I killed Jukes.  I didn't know he was going to fire it, I didn't know this would happen.  I killed him, it's my fault."_

Mullins stood and rounded on Hook, yelling, "Pan did it!  He and Billy been doin' this crap for weeks now.  I guess Pan finally decided to end it!  You should'a killed that brat, but instead you brought the little demon aboard!  Look what it's got us!  Our cannon's busted and Billy..." Mullins' voice choked up on him, and he scooped the boy up with a cry and carried him below to treat his burns and wounds.

Hook turned slowly to Peter, a fire burning in his eyes.  "Is this true, boy?  Did you sabotage my cannon and try to murder a member of my crew?"  Peter didn't answer, too dazed and worried to register anything but that Jukes was dead because of him.  Hook growled and went to where Peter stood.  He hooked the boy by the shirt and lifted him up to eye level.  "Did you do this, Pan?" he said with his coldest voice, glaring into the boy's eyes.

Peter saw Hook staring at him, and the question finally registered in his mind.  Slowly, he nodded, and his world exploded in pain.


	8. Foe and Friend

Hook didn't completely lose himself this time, and he didn't come anywhere close to killing Pan like he wanted to.  But he beat the hell out of the boy, using both fist and lash, and got some satisfaction when Pan finally passed out on the deck.  Peter had barely resisted at first, as if he didn't realized what was happening.  And when he had finally come to his senses enough to realize his danger, Hook knocked him back out of them.  Hook glared at the child curled up on the deck, and nudged him with his toe to make sure he was really unconscious.

He looked around and saw Mason and Smee watching.  The other men were below with Jukes.  "Clean up that mess," he growled, pointing to the cannon, and walked to his quarters.  The two men looked at the boy curled up by the mainmast and shrugged.  They began sweeping up the shrapnel and moved the cannon out of the way.  No one was terribly worried about steering the ship; they had no idea where they were or where they were going anyway.  When they were done, they went back to manning the ship until the rest of the crew returned, and paid no attention to the fact that Peter was nowhere in sight.

            "Come on, Billy-boy.  Wake up," came the voice in the darkness.  

Billy heard, and tried to respond.  He hurt all over, but continued to struggle towards the voices that he could here.  They were familiar voices, friendly voices, and he wanted to wake up so he could tell them he was ok.

He groaned, and blinked when he found that he could see.  "Robert?" he said weakly and tried to sit up.  Mullins, Starkey and Cookson were staring at him, relief palpable on their faces.

"Now, lad.  Lay back," the man said softly and gently pushed the boy back down.  "You gave us a scare, we thought you was dead.  Ya just had the wind knocked out of ya though.  Boy, don't ever scare me like that again!"

"What happened?  I hurt everywhere."

"Pan sabotaged Long Tom, and it blew back on ya.  Yer more'n a little singed, but no burns that're bad enough to worry about.  Yer clothes have had it though.  What's worse is the shrapnel.  We got most of the pieces out, and they didn't hit nothin' vital.  Yer burnt, bruised and cut, some cracked ribs I think.  Ye'll live, but ya ain't gonna want ter move for awhile," he put a cup to Billy's lips, and made the boy drink the whiskey in it.  

"I'll kill him.  No one touches Long Tom but me," Billy muttered darkly.

"Too late lad.  From the sounds of it, Cap'n Hook is killin' 'im for ya," Mullins replied, looking up with a frown.  He could almost feel bad for Pan, but not quite, not after this.

He picked the boy up and carried him to his bunk and watched him till he finally dropped off to sleep again.  Then he rejoined the rest of the crew on the deck and started his work again.  

Hook sat in his room, fuming.  He was disappointed beyond belief in Peter.  Everything had been going so well.  The boy had been diligent in his work and enthusiastic about learning his lessons, so enthusiastic that Hook had finally decided to make the lessons a standard part of the day.  _I was so close, Peter was becoming mine.  But he was plotting against the ship this entire time.  How could I have missed it?  I would have thought that I would have had some sense of his treachery.  _

He was trying to decide what to do with the boy now.  He didn't want to put the boy to death, he still felt an attachment, and knew that feeling Peter die would affect him badly.  Hell, towards the end of the beating he had just administered, he was beginning to feel some of what he was doing to the boy, which is why he had pulled back and knocked Pan out instead of killing him.  _I could put him in the brig, and maroon him on the next island we come to.  But they had been at sea for about a month now (time still passed strangely here, and no matter how diligent he was about recording the days, he still felt it wasn't quite correct),  and they had yet to have found land.  This was bad because supplies were getting low.   Two more weeks and they would have to go on half-rations.  He didn't like the idea of locking the boy in the brig for a long, unspecified length of time, but Pan could not be trusted.  He couldn't forgive the boy for his treachery, and since he couldn't kill him, he had to put him away where he wasn't a danger._

Suddenly, he felt a cry of pain, and a wave of dizziness overtook him.  "Peter?" he whispered, and ran out onto the deck.

He looked around, first at where he had left the boy, then at the other men on deck.  "Where's Pan!" he yelled.

The other men looked up, surprised, and then glanced around in confusion.  "We thought you'd taken the lad to 'is bed, Cap'n sir," Smee finally answered.

"No I did not.  I thought one of you witless curs would have taken him below to check him over or at the least to lock him in the brig!  Find that boy, now!"  Hook snarled.  

"He ain't down there, sir.  We were in the galley, and he couldn'a come below without one of us noticin'.  When we came up, he was gone," Mullins yelled back.  Suddenly, they heard a cry from above, and looked up at the crow's nest.  

Starkey, who had been standing closest to the mainmast, gave a yell, "There's blood on the rigging, Captain.  I think he climbed up there."

Hook fought down the second wave of dizziness, and dashed to the rigging.  As quickly as he could manage, he climbed to the crow's nest and peered over the railing.

Peter lay on his side, curled up.  He was staring at the man, eyes wide in fear.  Hook was confused at first, not understanding why there was so much blood on the child and in the bottom of the nest.  _I didn't do anything to make him bleed like that… "You stupid IDIOT!" he screamed and jumped at the boy.  _

Peter didn't resist as Hook took the sharp piece of shrapnel out of his hand.  He had nowhere to go, and he didn't care anymore.  He felt light, almost like he could fly again.  _Maybe I was just too heavy.  Now I'm lighter, so maybe I can _fly._  He wished he could have tried again, one last time, but now that the Captain had found him it was too late.  "Maybe I can go home now," he muttered, and giggled a bit._

Hook took Peter's belt off and used it to cinch one of the boy's bleeding wrists.  Then he ripped a long strip of his shirt off and used it to cinch the other.  "Peter, no.  What have you done?  Why did you do it," he said softly as he worked.

"I killed Billy.  I didn't mean to.  I didn't know.  But I did it, it's my fault.  I'm sorry.  I don't want to stay here anymore," Peter mumbled, and Hook could barely make out the words.  

When he had staunched the bleeding as much as he could, Hook lifted the boy up and slung him over his shoulder.  He made his way down the rigging so fast the crew thought he had jumped, but he made it safely and was running to the galley as soon as his feet hit the deck. 

Jukes awoke again at the commotion in the next room.  He eased himself up and limped slowly to the galley, holding the wall to keep himself up.  He stopped in the doorway and was horrified to see Pan lying on the table.  He could see the boy was beaten badly, and was terribly pale.  Peter was awake, though, and every time he looked like he was going to drift off, the Captain shook him or pinched him to bring him back.  He could see Smee and Mullins working frantically on the boy's hands, but he couldn't see what was wrong.  

"What happened, Cap'n?" Jukes asked quietly.

"Go back to bed, Jukes.  This is bad business and I don't want you in the way.  I'm not losing both of you today," Hook ordered.

Peter's head turned at the sound of Billy's voice, and he smiled when he saw the gunner standing there.  "Hi Billy," Peter said weakly, "I'm sorry I killed you.  I'm sorry I broke your cannon.  I didn't mean to.  Wait for me and we'll go home together."  He looked like he was going to say more, but his eyes closed and nothing Hook did would wake him up this time.

"The bleedin's stopped, Cap'n.  I don't know if it's in time, but he's still alive.  We have to wait and see now." Mullins said quietly.  Hook nodded, but continued to watch his boy.  Mullins walked to Billy, picked him up, and carried him back to his bunk.  

"Put me down, Robert.  What happened?" Billy protested.

"The little fool tried to kill himself.  Hook caught him in the lookout just after he done it, else he wouldn't have lasted this long.  I think the Cap'n should'a just let him alone and have at it.  We don't need that little demon on this ship, tryin' to murder us."

"Maybe he wasn't trying to kill me…"

"What else would he have been doing?  He put some kinda sticky mix in the cannon, molasses and some other stuff, and packed it in with sawdust.  Any idiot knows ya' can't shoot a clogged cannon!"

"He didn't know I was going to fire Long Tom today.  Hook only told me and I only told Mason.  I think he was just trying to get me back for the flag.  Would'a taken me days to clean out a mess like you described."

Mullins looked at Billy strangely, and then asked, "Who started your little war, Billy?  You two were fighting it for awhile before we noticed."

Billy looked away.  "Maybe I did.  I kept picking on him.  He tried being friendly at first, even when he was being difficult with his nightmares.  But I didn't want to be friendly, I didn't want him around.  Somehow, we started doing little things to annoy each other, but I don't remember who did it first.  It got out of hand.  Is he going to die?"

"I don't know.  He's cut himself before, I seen the scars when we cleaned off the blood.  He knew what he was doin'.  But Hook found 'im in time I think.  If he makes it through tonight, he'll make it, but it'll be awhile before he gets his strength back.  He lost too much blood."

Later, when Jukes was asleep, Mullins found the captain in the brig.  Peter lay on his cot, which Mason had brought down, with shackles on his ankles.  His arms rested on a couple of pillows, so that they were a bit higher than the rest of him.  Hook sat on a stool by the cot, staring at the pale child.  

"You gonna keep 'im down here?"  Mullins asked as he approached.

Hook looked at the man and sighed.  He looked extremely tired.  "I can't trust him.  He's not dangerous now, but I don't know when or if he'll recover.  He tried to murder Jukes, and to kill himself.  I don't know what to do with him."

"Well, about that," Mullins said and scratched his head.  He told Hook what he and Billy had discussed, making sure Hook realized that it could have been an accident.  "He don' know nothin' bout cannons, 'cept what he's seen from us shootin' it at him.  Even had he known it was to be fired, he might not of known what would happen."

Hook thought for awhile before he nodded.  "You may be correct.  The boy did seem shocked when we heard the explosion.  I sincerely hope it was merely a prank gone wrong.  But, we won't know for sure for awhile.  When he has recovered himself more, we will have a trial.  He will explain himself, and Mr. Jukes as well.  If Jukes was responsible for the matter of my standard being stolen, then he lied to me by allowing me to punish Mr. Pan.  Both boys have much to answer for, and I will be getting to the bottom of it.  I want them both in the brig, in chains," Hook ordered angrily.  "I will not tolerate childish games that endanger my ship or its crew."

"Ay, Cap'n," Mullins muttered.  This wasn't the outcome he had hoped for, but he knew better than to gainsay Hook right now.  He hung a hammock on the other side of the cell and carried Billy to it.  The gunner had awakened when he picked him up, and Mullins had explained to him why he was being confined.  

Hook still sat by Peter when Mullins installed Billy.  When he was in the hammock and his wrists manacled together, both men left them alone in the cell to rest.

Peter awoke the next day, feeling oddly well.  He was tired, and he hurt all over, but it was better than how much he'd hurt when Hook had been hitting him.  He looked around, not surprised to be in the brig.  He saw Billy in the hammock nearby, so still and quiet that Peter at first irrationally thought the pirates had left his dead body there for him to see.  But quickly Peter pushed away that thought and saw that Jukes was breathing.  He could see some cuts on the boy's face, and saw that Billy's hair was singed.  Everything else was hidden beneath the blanket.  

"Billy?" Peter called softly.  When he got no response, he called louder, wincing as the noise caused his head to throb.  But he kept calling despite the pain.  Eventually, Jukes yawned and opened his eyes.  He looked at Peter and smiled. 

"Yer awake.  No one was expectin' you to wake up for at least another day.  How do you feel?" Billy asked.

"I feel lousy.  But I guess I'll live.  You?" Peter answered.

"Well, I feel lousy too, so I guess we're even.  Smee's gonna have to cut my hair, though, a lot of it melted in the explosion."

"I'm sorry about the cannon, and blowing you up.  I was just leaving you a present to clean up.  If I had known you were going to shoot it, I would have just left the gunk in your bed."

"Yeah, well, it's done now," Billy snapped, but then he relaxed and smiled ruefully.  "Mason says the cannon can be fixed, I just have a lot of work cut out for me.  But you, bucko, get to clean out the barrel before I start.  The gunk isn't so sticky, now that it's been cooked, so that means you get to scrape it out."

"If you can stand me to touch your cannon, I'll help you fix it."

"Why did you do it?" Jukes asked suddenly, staring at Pan intently.

"I was trying to get you back…"

"No, I mean, why did you cut your wrists to kill yourself?"

Peter frowned and stared at his wrists.  "What?  I don't remember doing that.  Why would I try to kill myself?  I like me too much."

"You don't remember?  How can you not remember something like that?"

"That's what I would like to know," came a voice from the doorway.  Hook walked into the brig, followed by Smee carrying a tray with a bowl of soup on it.  "Explain yourself, Pan.  You nearly killed my gunner, and nearly destroyed my revenge.  I would like to know what possessed you to do it."

Peter recounted what he remembered, "You beat me, but I didn't care about that.  I thought I deserved it, for killing Billy.  I woke up on the deck and I was alone.  There was some shrapnel nearby, and I picked up a sharp looking piece.  I felt bad for what I did; I wanted to get away from the sight of it all, and the smells.  So I climbed to the lookout.  It hurt to do it, it hurt to breathe, but I made it.  So I went up there and went to sleep.  I don't remember anything else before waking up here," Peter said slowly.  He felt confused, and a little panicked that he would have done something like that and not know why.

Hook unlocked the cell door and Smee stepped in.  "I bought ya some soup, Billy-lad.  I dinna know ye'd be awake, Mr. Pan, else I'd have brought ya something ta eat, too.  I'll get ya somethin' when I'm done 'ere," the bosun said stiffly.  He was upset at Pan for what he did to Billy, and wasn't sure how to act around the boy.  He had heard Mullins' explanation for what Pan had done, and if it was true, then he'd apologize to the boy later.  But until then, he felt like the child had betrayed him and couldn't find it in himself to be nice to the boy.

_Mr. Pan.  Peter.  They all do that.  I never noticed.  They treat me like I'm two different people.  If they get angry at me, they call me Pan.  If they're not, I'm Peter.  But I'm not two people, I'm me.  I wish they would hurry up and decide if I'm to be accepted or not, it will make it easier for me to decide if I want to belong,_ Peter thought with a sigh.  It really hurt that Smee was angry with him.  The bosun was his favorite person onboard, and to lose that man's trust and affection meant that he had lost that and more with the other men.

While Smee checked on Billy and helped him down from the hammock so he could eat, Hook saw to Peter.  When the man first touched him, Peter flinched and looked away.  "I'm not going to hurt you, not right now," Hook muttered so that only the boy could hear him.

Peter nodded, still looking away, but when Hook reached for him again he jumped a bit.  Hook took it in stride and pretended he didn't notice.  The slashes on his wrists were not bleeding any longer, and so long as Peter did not do anything to aggravate them, they would heal without too much problem.  For the most part, Peter's other injuries were severe bruising on his chest, stomach, and arms, with a large knot on the side of his head.  But as the captain tended the boy's chest and checked on the mostly healed carving, he felt Peter's breath hitch.  He frowned and after some probing decided that Peter had a couple of cracked ribs.  "You and Jukes are looking an awful lot alike right now, with the exception that he is burned and you are an idiot.  But you deserved it for trying to murder a shipmate."

"If I had wanted to kill Billy, he'd be dead right now.  And I would have made sure to blow up the entire ship while I was at it," Peter said angrily.  

"Except that you cannot kill me, boy… though I wish now that the spell had a provision to keep you from doing it to yourself."

"There's loopholes around everything, Captain.  If I wished to I could explore them to see what they are.  But I don't want to kill you or anyone else here.  Besides, there's another spell on me, older and stronger than yours."

Hook looked at Peter speculatively.  He sat the boy up carefully so that he could wrap the child's ribs while he spoke.  "I wasn't aware that you knew about the memory spell."

"I wasn't aware that you knew either.  I have magic in me, and I can tell when there's magic put on me.  I just never really paid attention before because it didn't seem to matter, not until I came here."  

"What do you know about the memory spell?"

Peter sighed, then gasped as Hook pulled the wrapping tighter.  "They told me the fey put it on me to protect me, that bad things had happened to me and it would hurt me if I could remember.  The first thing I can ever remember is waking up.  Tink was there, but I didn't know who she was, or my own name.  She told me I was Peter Pan, but for all I know I could have been anyone.  Peter Pan sounded fine though, so that stayed my name.  I remember…" Peter looked down and frowned then looked back up at Hook, "I had bandages around my wrists then too.  But when I took them off, there wasn't anything wrong.  That's strange."

"Not really," Hook said. "If you tried to kill yourself before, and the spell made you forget, then it's not so odd that the spell might make you forget again when you tried it again."

"But I remember everything before this time, I remember who I am.  Last time, I forgot everything," Peter said in exasperation.

"Perhaps the spell determined that you didn't need to forget everything," Hook reasoned.  "If you tried suicide because you felt guilty, believing Jukes was dead, then when you discovered he was alive you would no longer feel compelled to kill yourself.  Maybe the first time you forgot, there wasn't anything in your past that was safe to remember, and it made you forget everything so you wouldn't do it again," Hook explained.  He knew from Shimi's history why Peter had tried to kill himself before, but he didn't want Peter to have a hint of that.  He didn't want the boy breaking the memory spell and trying something like this again… Hook had nearly had a heart attack from the fear he'd felt when he had found Peter.  

"I'll go get yer soup lad, you feel up to eatin'?" Smee said from behind the Captain.  Before Peter could answer, his stomach growled loudly.  Laughing, Smee nodded his head and went to go fetch the boy some food. 

"Can I trust the two of you to get along now and not do each other harm?" Hook said sternly.  The two boys nodded and had the decency to look ashamed, so the man removed the chains from their hands and feet.  "This is your sick-room for now.  Thanks to Mr. Pan here, it's a lot cleaner than it used to be, so I'm not worried about you lodging here and getting infections.  You both are under arrest.  Mr. Pan, the charges are sabotage, attempted murder, and attempted suicide.  Mr. Jukes, you are charged also with sabotage, and with withholding evidence of Pan's innocence in the flag incident and lying to the captain by maintaining your silence.  When you both are better, you will be tried and punished," he paused, seeing how deadly white Peter had become, and likewise saw the terror in Billy's face.  

"I know that you didn't intentionally try to harm Jukes, Pan," he reassured the boy, "but that doesn't change the fact that you did.  Both of you have destroyed my trust in you.  Jukes, I have long considered you one of the only competent crewmen I have, and haven't considered you a child for a long time.  But I've been told some of the pranks you and Peter have been pulling, and I am appalled."  His face was a cold mask, but the boys could see the anger in his eyes.  "Pan, you I expect to act like a child, it's my mission in life to force you to grow up," he smiled at the frown on the boy's face and continued.  "I had come to stop seeing you as my enemy and begun to consider you as…" he trailed off.  "Anyway, boy, you've disappointed me deeply.  I don't know if I can trust you anymore.  I may have to confine you here indefinitely."

Peter didn't reply, but inside he was shaking.  He hated being below deck, and the thought of being down here for long made him nauseous.  Hook saw the boy's discomfort, and felt a bit of satisfaction that he had shaken him up.  

All of his enjoyment disappeared when Peter looked at him, a strange light in his eyes, and spoke.  "I wish you'd kill me and get it over with, Codfish.  Even you can't be evil enough to want to hurt another person as much as you've hurt me."

Hook blinked, and instead of Pan, he saw the little boy lying on the cot.  The bruises on his face that stood out vividly against his pale skin, and the sigil on his chest brought vivid memories to the man.  They were memories of Peter crying, screaming in pain, over and over again, while he took pleasure from the torture.  Hook felt bile in his mouth, disgust at himself for what he'd done.  _Damn it!  If I had known bonding with him would give me a conscience, I never would have done it.  Now I can barely live with myself for the things I've done.  _

He sat by Peter and gently ruffled the boy's hair.  Peter winced as the hand approached, expecting to be struck, and felt an odd sensation when the captain instead gave him the affectionate gesture.  "Peter," Hook said softly, "I don't like myself when I hurt you.  Yes, I've hurt you, and yes, I enjoyed it while I was doing it.  But I regret every single time I've caused you pain.  No matter the outcome of the trial, any punishment you receive will not entail a beating.  And I certainly don't want you dead, boy.  I'll cut off my other hand before I let you die, Peter, it would pain me less.  I want to trust you.  I want to teach you, I want to see you become the man you could be."  He sighed, not sure how to say what he wanted, uncomfortable expressing any emotion that didn't strike fear in the listener's heart.

Peter felt the warmth coming from Hook, the concern and the regret.  He reached up and took the hand that now rested on his shoulder and gave the man a lopsided smile.  "I think I understand.  I am sorry about what happened.  I don't want to be here, but I am so I want to make the best of it.  I can't get home again, and now the _Jolly Roger_ is my home.  I don't trust you and I hate you for what you've done to me.  But we're bound together, and that means something to me.  I don't know what, but because of it, I don't want to hurt you or the crew.  I'm not fighting you anymore; I haven't for a while, so please stop fighting _me.  Please, Captain, help me fit in."  As he spoke, he felt a conflict well up inside.  He meant every word, because he really wanted to fit in here.  He needed peace in his life, he was tired of everyday feeling fear and pain and hate.  Peace could be his if he could accept his new life and in turn be accepted by the Captain and the crew.  But another part of him recoiled at the thought of surrendering to Hook; felt that it would be the ultimate betrayal of everything he was.  But he was too tired and sick at heart to listen to the part of him that wanted to fight, so he shoved it aside and instead reached out for the man at his side._

Hook nodded, "That's enough for me, Peter.  I don't expect you to like me, but I do expect you to obey me.  I'm glad you want to fit in, it will make it better for us both."  He sensed the boy reaching for him, felt the need rolling off the child in waves.  Cautiously, he reached back, and when their minds met, it was like a warm handshake:  _truce.  _

Hook and Peter pulled back and the man stood.  Jukes was staring at them strangely.  _There's something there between them, he thought.  __They seem to fit together somehow… Billy realized Hook was staring at him and he quickly finished the last few bites of his soup.  "Cap'n?  I'm sorry.  Whatever you do to Peter, do it to me too.  He wanted to make friends, but I wanted to be mean.  I started this, it's my fault."_

"Peter didn't have to reciprocate, so he also bears some of the blame," Hook replied.  "But I appreciate your maturity in accepting your part of the blame.  And you're right, you both will receive the same punishment.  But don't concern yourself with that right now.  You both are hurt and in need of healing.  I don't want either of you exerting yourselves until I give you leave.  Eat your food and rest, that's an order."

"Ay, Cap'n," the boys chorused.  Hook helped Billy back into the hammock, and to the gunner's astonishment, he tucked him in.

Hook winked at the boy and whispered, "Jukes, if you want to regain my trust and esteem, try to get along with Peter.  I need him to get better, and he needs someone he can trust.  I'll be less likely to hurt him again if he gets along with the crew and does what he's told."

Billy glanced at the boy on the cot, taking in his battered condition.  He no longer felt any animosity towards Peter; he'd finally seen that Peter was having a worse time of it than he himself had so long ago.  He felt he had something in common with the boy and nodded at the Captain.  "No problem, Cap'n," he whispered.

Hook patted him on the head and left.  Not long afterwards, Mr. Smee returned with Peter's soup and some water.  He fussed over the two boys and waited for Peter to finish.

Peter ate his soup, and even asked for seconds.  While Smee was gone to get more, Jukes couldn't stand it any longer.  "How can you eat that and then ask for more?  It's all I can do to stomach Cookson's fare the first time around!"

Peter shrugged, "Well, I'm hungry.  His cooking is better than what we used to eat since none of us could cook.  We mostly ate just fruits and berries.  It's not as good as Indian food, and we used to steal that a lot.  On special occasions Tink could use her magic to make food.  I just pretend that it tastes good, and it does."

"You _pretend it tastes good, and it does?  That's the craziest thing I've ever heard!"_

"I have a good imagination.  That's why the fey liked me so much I guess.  Besides, it's a useful trick for when you have no food.  Sometimes the fruit isn't in season, and the Indians are watching too well.  Then we'd go a day or so with nothing to eat.  So we'd pretend to have a feast, and sure enough we could see and smell and taste the food.  And we ate it and we didn't feel hungry.  But it didn't work all the time, especially if we'd been eating pretend food for awhile.  This works well though, it's real food with a pretend taste."

"Make believe.  I wish I could do that.  It's a good trick," Billy said wistfully.

"I can try to teach you while we're in here.  I had to teach the other boys to pretend, they weren't very good at it at first.  But it's dangerous… sometimes I forget the difference between pretend and real.  You can loose yourself if you go too far, and then people say you're crazy."

"I'd like to learn," Billy said quietly.  He listened as Peter spoke, and tried to imagine the things the boy spoke of.  He didn't think the lessons were working, though, until Smee returned with the second bowl of soup for Peter.  He could smell the aroma, and his mouth watered.  _Oh, wow,_ _I'm pretending?_  Suddenly, the vision was gone and he smelled the same, slightly burnt smell of the soup he himself had eaten.  _Only Cookson could make soup that tasted burnt._

"It smelled good at first, but then it smelled bad.  What happened?" Billy asked after a few minutes.

Peter had just been taking another bite, and he gagged on the mouthful.  He swallowed it, and set the bowl aside.  "Thanks a lot.  You reminded me it was pretend.  You can't think something is real if you remember that it's not.  At least I ate half the bowl first," he said with a smile.  "But you were able to pretend for a little bit.  If you practice, it will get easier."

"Faith, if I don' have any idea what you two are gabbin' 'bout," Smee said.  The two boys cracked up at the look on his face, and a sudden kinship formed.  They were both children, and they both could do something they knew the other men could not.  Smee didn't understand, but he felt happy at seeing his two lads getting along.  It made it easy to forgive Peter if Billy had done it, too.  He left them alone to rest and went back to his duties.

The next several days were rough for Peter, and Billy's presence was the only thing that pulled him through.  He _hated being kept below, the smells and the closeness of the brig racked his nerves.  His nightmares worsened to the point that Hook was spending more time below at night than in his own cabin.  The first night that Hook had become aware of Jukes watching him while he comforted Peter, he made it clear to the gunner that what he saw was to remain secret.  Billy had no intention of telling, not only did he not want to anger the Captain, he didn't want to embarrass Peter.  Besides, as long as Peter quieted down so he could sleep, he didn't care what Hook did._

Peter slept a lot at first, the loss of blood taking its toll on his body.  But he ate well and bounced back from the ordeal with the speed only the young possess.  After the first few days, Hook relented a bit and let the two boys sit on deck in their chains, to breathe the fresh air and feel the sun.  It did wonders for Peter and he recovered faster, but the nights below were still a burden.  Peter quit sleeping at night, unwilling to face the nightmares that he knew he'd have, so Billy would sit up with him and talk.  Hook at first was angry when he saw the boys weren't sleeping, but he calmed when he realized that with this arrangement he could get some sleep for himself.  So during the day, Peter and Billy slept on deck and at night they chatted and played simple games to pass the time.

After a week and a half, they were both deemed recovered enough to face trial.  Hook threw out the attempted murder charge against Peter, and the boy admitted guilt to sabotage and attempted suicide (though he still didn't remember or understand why he would have done it).  Billy admitted guilt to sabotage and framing Peter.  They had to apologize publicly to Captain and crewmates, and they were given their punishments.  Hook ordered (as expected) that they both would have to work together to fix the cannon.  They also had to share duties for two weeks, and work together on all of the tasks.  That meant twice the number of responsibilities, but half the work on each chore.  It also meant that Jukes had to have lessons with Peter.  

Peter wasn't thrilled with Billy seeing how illiterate he was, but the boy only mildly ribbed him, and actually was able to help him when the captain became frustrated.  Peter couldn't read yet, but he was able to get all of his letters, and was practicing his handwriting so that he could draw them properly.  He also had to learn his numbers, but it was all coming together.  Writing was a fairly slow process because his wrists pained him if he used them too much.  But he dug in, trying to prove that he could do it, but only because he wanted to. 

Their time together in the brig and the cooperation they had to develop to do their chores helped the boys become fast friends.  They regaled one another with stories of the things they'd seen and done, and shared their hopes and fears.  Peter was pleasantly surprised to learn that Billy's life, while shorter, had been just as interesting as his own.  Jukes was surprised to learn that he and Peter had quite a bit in common, especially now that the boy was nearly as normal as he was.  They resolved their differences, and became nearly inseparable.  Peter was finally happy.  He had a friend again.

"Where are you hiding it, Jukes!" Starkey yelled at the boy angrily.

"I don't know what you're talking about!  We aren't hiding food!" Jukes yelled back.  He looked to Mullins for support, but his friend just looked at him expectantly.  _He doesn't believe me,_ Jukes realized.  That hurt him a lot, knowing that his oldest friend thought he was a liar.

Starkey lunged forward and grabbed Jukes.  "You and Pan are liars.  Have you joined the brat's side now, and abandoned your shipmates?" He growled, and cocked back his fist to strike the boy.

Mullins was about to intercede at last, but Peter beat him to it.  He leapt at Starkey, jumping on his back and hooking the man around the throat with his arm.  He latched on with a firm grip and squeezed, choking the pirate.  "Let go of him.  Now," he said flatly.  

Starkey dropped Jukes and flailed at Peter, trying to break the boy's grip.  When Peter saw that Billy was away, he leapt from the man's back and stood by Billy's side.  The two boys took up defensive stances, ready to fight together if they had to.

"What is going on here?" Hook yelled, walking up to the knot of men.  He'd seen Peter aid Billy, and was angry that his men were fighting among themselves.  "Mullins, explain to me why Peter was attacking Starkey."

"Well, Cap'n," Mullins said uncomfortably, "most of the men think the two lads are hoardin' food and keepin' more'n their fair share."

"Really," Hook growled, looking at the boys suspiciously.  "Now, what makes you think that?"

"They never complain about being hungry," Starkey answered.  "They are too cheerful and energetic to be on half-rations.  They make comments about how full they are and how delicious their food was, even though all we've had is Cookson's stew.  Meanwhile, the rest of us are hungry.  A man can't do his duty as well if he's starving, and all of us can barely concentrate on work for our stomach pains.  We ignored it at first, thinking perhaps the boys just didn't need as much food as us.  But I caught them hiding behind the barrels eating…it's been hours since grub!"

"Peter?  Billy?  What do you have to say?" Hook turned to them expectantly.

"We aren't keeping food from the men.  If we had food tucked away somewhere, we'd share it," Peter snapped, his eyes flashing in anger.  

"Starkey misunderstood what we were doin'," Billy added.

Hook watched them for a moment longer.  He knew Peter was telling the truth, he could feel it.  He walked to the barrels and looked behind them.  There were two bowls and a pair of spoons lying on the deck.  He picked one of the bowls up and inspected it carefully, then turned back to the men.

"If you saw them eating then why is this bowl empty?" Hook asked softly.  He held out the bowl so that the men could look within.

"Perhaps they poured out the contents, or they were just finishing," Starkey reasoned.

"The bowl is dry and clean, you idiot," Hook snarled.  "It hasn't held food since the last time it was washed!"

"Captain?" Peter spoke up.  He continued when the man looked at him and nodded.  "Billy's right, it was a misunderstanding.  Me and Billy were playing a game.  When we get really hungry, we pretend we're eating food.  It makes us forget that our stomachs hurt and that it's going to be a long time until we can eat real food again."

Hook sighed and handed the bowl to Peter.  He saw how tired both children were, and how thin.  _They both have always been too thin, now I'm starving them.  He couldn't help it, though.  They hadn't come across land yet, and their food and water supplies were getting low.  Hook had put the ship on half-rations nine days ago, and it was taking its toll on everyone.  Even the Captain was not exempt from the cut-backs.  _

"Everyone back to work!  Any more incidents, and no one will have _any_ food for the rest of the day!" Hook roared, glaring at Starkey and Mullins.  The crew jumped and went back to work.

Billy and Peter returned to the sailcloth they were repairing.  They worked in silence for awhile, until Peter noticed Billy was crying.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.  He'd never seen his friend this upset.

"Mullins sided against me.  He thought I was lying," Billy muttered, wiping at his face.  "He acts like he doesn't trust me anymore."

"That's adults for you," Peter said with a sigh.  "You can't trust them."  He realized that was the wrong thing to say when he saw Billy become even more upset.  "Hey," he said gently, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, "I was joking.  Mullins thinks the world of you, anyone can see it.  Everyone's on edge because we're all hungry.  The men are worried that the fairies cursed the ship for murdering me, and we're doomed to sail until we all starve or die of thirst.  Hunger and fear do weird things to people.  When we find land and re-supply, everyone will go back to normal."

"You've lived in this place for a long time.  Aren't there other islands?" 

"There's lots of them, which is why I don't understand why we haven't found one yet.  But it shouldn't be long before we do."

"Until then, I have to do my part to help my shipmates.  Even if it's drastic," Billy whispered.

"What are you going to do?"

Billy smiled and told Peter quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear.  When he was done, Peter sighed and looked at the other men working on deck.  "You really think they deserve it?"  Billy nodded, and Peter nodded back.  "Alright, but we can't tell.  And I'll do it too, we're friends and we do everything together.  Besides, I'm better at it than you, I'll last longer."

They shook on it and went back to work.

Two days later, a very woozy Peter brought Hook his supper.  He set the tray down and quickly snatched up his bowl before the man could look at it.  Hook looked up from his journal and greeted the boy.

"Ahh, wonderful.  More gruel.  Well, boy, eat up," he said as he took his own bowl from the tray.  "You have to keep your strength up."

Peter nodded and began eating.  But he was shaky and weak, and after the first few bites, he dropped his bowl onto the table, where it landed upside down.

"Odds, bobs!  Boy, that's my map you're ruining!" Hook snarled and snatched the bowl up.  He stared, confused, when he saw that there was nothing spilled.  He looked into the bowl and saw that it was empty and clean.  "Peter," he said softly, "where is your food?"

Peter looked down, afraid to tell the truth.  He jumped when Hook slammed the bowl onto the desk, and looked up to see the man was nose to nose with him.  "I- I wasn't hungry, so I put my share in your bowl, sir."

"You are lying about some of that, Pan," Hook growled, "so which part is the lie:  that you're not hungry, or that you put it in my bowl."

Peter stared, worried, at the anger in Hook's eyes.  Realizing the man would have his answer and that his anger would be less if he told the truth, Peter answered.  "I decided that you and the other men needed it more than I did, so I've been pretending to eat."

Hook stared at the boy in disbelief.  "You've been _pretending to eat?  I thought that was your silly game with Jukes!"_

"It was, until we saw how hungry everyone else was that day.  I only eat breakfast for real now, and only half my share then.  The rest I put in your bowl or in someone else's if I can slip it in."  He saw Hook's expression change from disbelief to fury, and tried to soothe the man.  "It's okay, though.  I pretended to eat lots of times in Neverland when there wasn't food.  It's real to me, and I don't usually feel hungry anymore afterwards.  And it's really easy to do, Billy learned real quick…" he stopped suddenly, afraid that Hook picked up on his slip.  

Hook had, and he grabbed Peter painfully by the arm.  "Has Mr. Jukes also been pretending to eat so that he could give his rations away?"

Peter clamped his mouth shut, preferring to get in worse trouble with his silence than to cause any for Billy.  Hook took the boy's silence as affirmation, and dragged him out onto deck.

"ALL HANDS ON DECK, NOW!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.  The entire crew, who had just been settling down for supper, quickly rushed to the deck and lined up before their captain.  They saw Peter, wincing at the grip on his arm, and figured they were to witness the boy being punished again.  

"Mr. Jukes," Hook growled, "how was your supper?"

"Cap'n?" Billy gasped, fear clawing through his heart.  "I- uh, I mean, I hadn't started eating yet.  I was helping Cookson dole out rations."

"I'm sure you were," Hood said mildly.  He shoved Peter to the deck before him, and motioned for Jukes to stand with his friend.  "Men, it seems that these two boys have been skipping meals so that they could put their share of their rations into everyone else's dishes.  How long have you two been doing this and how often?"

"W-we've been doing it for only two days, sir," Jukes stammered.  "We eat our proper breakfast, then we skip meals for the rest of the day."

"Really?  Pan told me that he'd been eating half his share at breakfast," Hook growled, thinking that Billy was padding the truth.

Billy looked at him oddly, then looked at Peter, who was still sitting on the deck, rubbing his arm.  "Peter?" he said softly.

"I've been giving you half my breakfast, Billy," the boy said softly.  

The other pirates stared at the two boys, shocked.  "And here we've been whining about being hungry, and the two lads were giving us their food," Mullins growled.  He was angry at the boys for not eating, but he was angry at himself for not noticing.  

"Well, men," Hook called out, "I can think of only one punishment to fit this crime.  Cookson, gather everyone's supper, and whatever is left in the pot.  Smee, fetch my own bowl from my room.  Bring it all here.  The two lads have skipped their meals to feed us, so we shall all skip our meal to feed them."

He looked around, expecting complaints from the crew.  But the men all nodded, and the only complaints came from the two boys.  He cut off their protests angrily and everyone waited for the food to be brought up.  Cookson set the pot down before the captain and he handed the boys two bowls and two spoons.  

"Now," Hook said grimly, "you both will fill your bowls and eat.  All of us will stay here and watch you, to make sure you _do eat.  You will eat seconds and thirds and however much until that pot is empty.  I want you to remember this lesson the next time you think to skip meals.  And if I catch either of you pretending to eat again, you __both will suffer this punishment.  I don't care how real pretending is to you, it is no substitute for real food!"_

So the Captain and crew watched silently as the two boys ate.  Peter and Billy both were starving, but even so it was too much food for them to eat alone.  At one point, Peter thought he would throw up, but he fought it down.  Food was scarce enough without him wasting it like that.  Without even discussing it, both boys decided to never pretend to eat again.  There were still a few bowls worth of food left in the pot when they gave up eating.  Hook wouldn't hear of it at first, wanting to make them finish it off.  But when the two boys began crying, their stomachs too full and them trying to eat anyway, he relented, remembering they were too small to hold as much as he or another grown man could.  The rest of the meal was divided among the crew (though neither Mullins nor Hook took any), and the boys were sent to bed.

Peter lay in his cot, miserably full and upset.  Hook decided to turn in, himself, too hungry to concentrate on his logs.  He heard the boy whimpering, and looked at him critically.  

"Pan?" he called.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Peter moaned.

"Sit up, then.  It's harder on your stomach if you lay down too soon after eating.  Wait about an hour, then lay down," he sighed and reached for their book.  "Come sit by me, I'll read more of our story while we wait."

"Are you still mad at me?" Peter said softly as he tentatively approached the man.

Hook shook his head and helped the boy settle in the bed beside him.  "No, I'm not.  I understand why you did it, and it's admiral that you and Jukes would be so selfless on behalf of your shipmates.  But," he added, "at the same time, you both were being underhanded about the whole thing.  And no grown man wants to realize that a child not even half his size is sacrificing for him.  It should be the rest of us that goes hungry to make sure you and Billy are eating."

"But the ship needs you more," Peter began, but Hook cut him off.

"Peter, you and Billy are growing boys," he snapped.  He saw the flash of Peter's eyes and chuckled, "you _are_ growing.  Mr. Smee is already considering letting your clothes out a bit.  But if you are to grow to your full potential, you have to eat.  It's bad enough you aren't getting the nutrition you need, subsisting on ship's food.  It's worse if you aren't eating at all.  You won't get your full height, and you could have health problems later.  The men and I are done with growing, so it's not as bad for us."

Peter felt a bit worried about the threat of having health problems.  "I didn't know that not eating could make you sick.  I don't want to be sick anymore."

"Don't fret about it," Hook consoled him, "you didn't go without for long enough to hurt you much.  But don't _ever_ do it again."

"I won't, sir, I promise.  Will you read to me now?" 

Smiling at the precocious boy, Hook opened the book and began to read aloud.


	9. New Arrivals

"Ship, I see a ship!" came Peter's call from the lookout.

 "I believe the proper term is 'Ship ho', Mr. Pan," Hook admonished.  "Where is it?"

"Um….three points off the starboard bow!  I think," he called back down.  Hook looked up and saw Peter's arm pointing in the indicated direction.  

"What the devil is he talking about?  There's no ship in sight!" growled Mullins as he peered in the indicated direction.

Hook agreed, but he began scanning that area with his telescope.  "I'll be damned!  That boy has exceptional eyesight.  Ship, three points to starboard.  It's barely visible on the horizon, just a speck.  I can't even tell for sure it's a ship.  Smee!  Take us to her.  Mullins, I think Peter should pull more duty in the nest.  He seems to enjoy it and with his eyes, we'll never miss sight of anything."

"Ay, Cap'n," Mullins said brightly, but then he added in a lower voice.  "I still don't know if we should have him up there, what with what he tried to do and all.  His blood-stains are all over the place up there!"

"I know that, but he still doesn't remember what happened.  It obviously doesn't bother him, and we need him up there.  If he hadn't been there now, we would have completely missed this ship.  Who knows how many islands we've passed that Peter might have seen?  We need supplies, and hopefully that ship will have some.  Make us ready to attack if she doesn't surrender."

Peter, however, was having a ball.  He loved being up here.  It was the closest thing to flying he could get, and it got him in the fresh air away from the dank, musty odors of the ship.  He glanced down for the hundredth time at the dark stains in the floor of the nest, and wondered again why he'd done it.  And for the hundredth time, no answer presented itself, so he went back to watching the horizon.  He looked to see if there were any other ships, or land, but only the single ship he had already spotted was to be seen.  

While he watched he began to hum.  Soon, his hum turned to a song, and he sang whatever came to mind.  The men below heard him, and Mullins frowned.

"Damn it.  Why does he always sing those songs?" the man complained.  "No mortal should speak words like that.  It's unnatural!"

"There's nothing natural about Peter, Mullins.  You should know that by now," Jukes said with a smile.  He poked the man in the ribs, and dodged the playful swipe that came in return.

"Silence!  I want to listen," Hook growled, and the men shut up.  Peter had begun singing several days ago, and Hook took that as a positive sign.  The boy wouldn't do it if he knew someone was nearby, but if the child was becoming light-hearted enough to sing, even in private, then surely he was doing better.  Most of the boy's songs were in fey, but some were in English.  Once he swore he heard the boy singing in Latin, but Peter wouldn't repeat his songs when he was asked, and Hook knew better than to try to threaten the boy into singing for him.  He listened now to the Fey-song, and understood the words that his crew could not.  Peter sang of flying, and how much he missed Neverland.

The breeze is in my hair, clouds surround me

I spin unfettered though the mist

Diving to the ground, playing tag with the trees

No one can catch me, I am the child of the wind.

Faster then faster, I outstrip the quickest pixie

They laugh in frustration, and give me more dust

For my joy is their joy, my laugh is their life

From my dreams and happiness they were born.

Land of the Eternal Child, which I love and I hate

My heaven, my prison, my birthright, my doom,

Where are you now?  I feel you no more

Will you ever find me again, and save me from my fate?

Show me the way, I come with arms open

I'll fly your skies once more, and skate upon the wind

Please show me the way, I miss you so much!

Can't you see me?  Why won't you hear me?

Don't you love me anymore?

Peter's voice trailed off, the last note hanging in the air, heavy with sadness and loss.  Hook shook himself, and discovered that a tear had escaped and was running down his face.  He hastily wiped it away, but no one noticed.  Everyone had been affected, for it is the power of fey music to convey the emotion of the one who makes it.  They all felt Peter's loss, and though they did not understand the words, the crew understood the meaning of his song.  

"Ahoy, down there!" Peter's cry came, snapping them out of their reverie.  "The ship doesn't look right. It's not sitting on the water like it should.  Something's wrong!"

They could all now see the dot on the horizon, and if they squinted they could tell it was a boat shape.  Hook raised his scope and stared for awhile.  "She's low in the water.  I do believe she's sinking."

And so, Peter continued to relay the details as he could discern them, and always, by the time the crew could make out one detail, Peter was telling them of the next.  The ship they were approaching ran out the white flag, and put up all the indications that she was a ship in distress and surrendering to any hostiles.  As they approached, they found that the ship was heavily damaged, and was, indeed, slowly sinking.

Later, the two ships were side-by-side.  Hook, Mullins, and Mason boarded the new ship to meet with the small assemblage of men waiting there.  Peter was ordered to stay in the nest on lookout and out of the way.  Five men stood on the deck.  They were a bedraggled lot, and a couple of them were injured.  All had a look of intense relief in their eyes.  One of them, a tall blonde, stepped forward and greeted them.

"Welcome aboard.  I am Michael Little, and what passes for the captain of the 'Blood Rose'.  These men are Mr. Davis, Mr. Leery, Mr. McNary, and Mr. Corzone. I have ten others below who are sick and injured."

"I am James Hook, captain of the Jolly Roger.  Do you need assistance?  Your ship appears to be in a bad way."

"Ay, that's an understatement if ever I heard one.  We are privateers, but we ran afoul of a ship of the Spanish Navy.  There was a battle, and heavy losses on both sides.  A sudden storm came upon us, and broke us away from our enemy.  Good thing too, else both ships would have been destroyed.  As it was, we barely survived, but lost most of our crew.  Others died of their wounds later.  Our captain put a few more to death for mutiny before he himself succumbed to infection.  We lost Jeffreys this morning.  We have plenty of supplies, having not been long out of port, but it does us little good, as we cannot sail and we're sinking."

Hook nodded and thought a moment.  "I could use more crew.  Swear loyalty to me, and I'll take you aboard.  We'll take what's useful from your ship and scuttle the rest."

"Ay, we figured that would be the best case when we saw your colors.  Most of us expected you'd just kill us and loot the ship.  We'll join you, and gladly swear loyalty to our savior.  We also have some treasure, though not much, and that we will share.  Gold does nothing for a man staring death in the face.  But you must treat us as equal crewmen, and we'll swear you our only captain."

"You speak well for your crew.  I believe we can come to an arrangement acceptable to everyone," Hook replied, and they shook hands on it.  _This man is well spoken.  Perhaps he'll be useful to me._

Soon, Hook's crew complement increased from eight (himself and Peter included) to twenty-three.  They emptied the 'Blood Rose' of anything that might be useful.  Food and water was the first to be taken over, followed by the treasure, whiskey, rum, extra sails and rope, and most everything in the former captain's quarters.  When they were done, and the ship was nothing more that an empty hulk, they left it to sink with a few more holes in her bottom.

That night, there was a small party on the _Jolly Roger_.  It was kicked off by the swearing in, and then the food and drink were broken out.  The _Roger_ crew was ecstatic to learn that Mr. Corzone knew how to cook, and swore to put him to the test when his arm was healed up.  They spent the evening getting to know one another, and swapped stories about themselves and their adventures.  Mr. Leery had a fiddle, and played a few tunes for the men to dance to.

Peter hung back and stayed quiet.  Jukes was in the midst of the excitement, eager to get to know his new shipmates, but Peter wasn't sure what to make of the new men.  Without his friend to talk to, Peter felt uncomfortable and out of place (as if he ever felt in place before).  He had just gotten used to the way thing were, and now they were going to change again.  While he was hanging on the fringe, unsure what to do, Mullins and Starkey began telling tales of Neverland.  Peter quickly walked to the aft of the ship, away from the painful memories.  He leaned on the railing, staring at the stars and watching a moon rise.

"I thought you liked stories, boy," Hook said close behind him.

Peter jumped, completely caught off guard.  Hook frowned as he realized that the boy must be really upset if he had been able to approach him without notice.

Peter turned and faced the man with a wry smile.  "I do, but I don't like remembering.  It hurts too much to remember home.  And hearing they way they tell it…" Peter took a deep breath, "it's too much.  I'd rather forget if I can't go back."

"We heard your song today, while you were in the lookout.  It was beautiful.  You have a wonderful talent for music.  Did you learn it, or did you make it up?"

Peter shrugged, "I don't remember.  I think I made it up.  I just sang whatever I felt, and it rhymed well enough."

"I heard you say a word that sounded a lot like Neverland, but it meant 'Land of the Eternal Child', what was the word, and _did_ you mean Neverland?"

Peter pulled back and looked at Hook suspiciously, "You understood?  I was singing in fey.  How could you understand me?"

Hook smiled and patted the boy on the head.  "Ever since I put the spell on you, I have been able to understand fey.  I don't know why, but it hasn't come up much, since you rarely speak it."

Peter nodded his head, looking thoughtful.  "That's interesting.  Could be fun, if I can speak it to you, and only you can understand me.  Can you speak it too?"

Hook shook his head no, and Peter sighed.  "Too bad.  Maybe I could teach you… but I don't know.  Anyway, 'N'avalaran' means 'Land of the Eternal Child': 'N'a' is short for 'Nara', which means 'child'; 'vala' means 'eternally young'; 'ran' is 'land'.  I asked Tink about it once, and she said that when I was little, I had a hard time saying some of the fey words right, so I would say Neverland instead of N'avalaran.  It stuck as a name, and it became the English way to say it."

"What did you mean, that Neverland was a prison?  And that you loved and hated it?"

Peter thought back, considering what he had said.  "I don't know.  Neverland was my home, it's the only place I ever knew.  But, I also knew that it was the only place I would ever know.  They would never let me leave.  I didn't want to, but if I had ever changed my mind, they would have made me stay."  He cocked his head to the side as a thought struck him, "They made me forget everything once.  What if that's what happened?  What if I tried to leave and they made me forget so I would stay?"

"No, that's not what happened," Hook said reassuringly.

"How do you know?"

"A fey told me.  I know a lot about you that you don't.  You were hurt, in body and spirit.  There were others in Neverland, and they were all killed by the monster you dream of.  You were the only one that lived, and you didn't want to.  You did try to kill yourself then, and the fairies made you forget so that you could be happy again."

"My mother… she was killed… sometimes I can remember things, and then they're gone.  Who told you about that?  Who betrayed me?" Peter asked, intensely curious.

"I may tell you one day, but certainly not while we are still within the fey realm.  Let's go back to the merry-making, and stop with the brooding.  Do you have your pipes with you?"  When Peter nodded, he continued, "I haven't heard you play since you came above.  I often see you looking at them, and once or twice I thought I heard a few notes.  You played well on the island.  I meant what I said, you have a remarkable ability with music.  Why don't you go back and play for the men.  It's a great ice-breaker, and sailors always appreciate music.  They reserve much respect for one that can play.  You and Mr. Leery could make good music together."

"I don't know if I still can.  I'm afraid to try – what if I can't play them like I can't fly."

"You can still fight…"

"And you beat me."

"That was because you were injured and because you were too used to flying while you fought. You were too dependant on flight.  You could still fight, if I trusted you with a weapon.  Remember when you tried to escape?  You got the best of me then.  You can still do anything that didn't require pixie dust.  Try it."  When Peter didn't reply, he added, "That's an order, Pan."

Peter turned and walked back to the pirates grouped around the fire, Hook close behind him.  The Captain cleared his throat and announced, "This is Mr. Peter Pan, if you haven't been introduced.  He is my cabin-boy.  He also plays an instrument, and I have asked him to play for us.  Bear in mind, he has been a part of my crew for less than two months, and he has had a very difficult time adjusting.  He hasn't played in all that time, not having the mood for it.  Maybe tonight that will change."  Hook sat and everyone grew quiet and waited expectantly.

Peter pulled out his pipes and fidgeted with them a moment.  He took a deep breath and began to play.  At first the notes rambled, as he played whatever came to mind.  Soon he found a tune and slipped into it seamlessly.  It was a melody he had always been fond of, simple but cheerful.  Soon, Mr. Leery joined in, having picked out the tune, and some of the men began to dance.  Hook nodded his head to the music and smiled appreciatively.  

When Peter finished that one, he slipped into another.  His eyes drifted closed, as he surrendered himself to the song and lost himself to the music.  Soon, his music became fey, and Mr. Leery couldn't keep up.

While he played, he remembered.  He remembered all the happy times and adventures.  He remembered the joy and laughter.  He remembered his friends, and how they had loved him and he loved them.  He remembered Tinker Bell, his best friend, his oldest friend.  He could almost hear her laugh.  As he remembered, his music quickened.  The men felt the joy through his music, and his love and happiness.  They danced and cheered, so caught up in the spell they thought their hearts would burst.  But through the joy, Peter remembered that it was all gone, that his home and his friends were forever lost to him.  He remembered what had been done to him.  He remembered the pain and the loneliness.  

Peter despaired, and fell into sadness.  His music slowed and followed his mood.  The pirates stopped their dance and sat quietly.  They listened, and most of the men were moved to tears.  Hook was doubly affected, both by the music, and through the link he shared.  Finally, the music faded, Peter's heart too heavy to find the notes any longer.  He stood there quietly and stared at the flames.  Slowly, he came back to himself, and saw the men sitting quietly around him.  He moaned, cast his pipes into the fire, and ran to his bed. 

"Hey!" Jukes cried and pulled the instrument from the flames.  It was a little singed, but mostly unharmed.  His hand was a bit worse off, but after the incident with the cannon, he didn't mind a little scorch so much.

"Thank you, Mr. Jukes," Hook said quietly.  "That was the most beautiful music I have heard in my entire life.  It would be a shame for him to throw it away like that.  Keep them safe for now, I'm sure he'll want them again later.  Alright, everyone back to the fun!  Mr. Leery, a happy tune if you please."  It took a few minutes, but eventually spirits rose and the men went back to the party.  Hook gave Peter a little time before he went to check on him.  _In his melancholy mood, and his history of suicide attempts, it would not be prudent to leave him alone for too long._

Once Peter got away from the men and was alone in the cabin, he was able to get himself under control.  He no longer felt like crying, but he did still feel sad and homesick.  _If I could think of this ship as home, then I wouldn't be homesick anymore.  But it's not my home….  He stood in the middle of the room and looked around.  This place had become so familiar, and, yes, even comfortable that it made him a bit uneasy.  He had even started thinking of it as his room, and the cot as his bed.  _This isn't my room.  It's Hook's room.  I only sleep here because he makes me._  He closed his eyes and thought back to his underground home.  He could almost see the hearth, Tink's house, and even the big bed he had shared with his Lost Boys.  He thought that maybe that's why he slept badly – because he had been used to sleeping with the other boys for so long, he couldn't sleep without them.  And that could explain why he slept better in Hook's arms – it was like sleeping next to Nibs or Slightly.  __Maybe… I don't know, Hook confuses me so much it makes my head hurt to think about it._

He wandered over to the desk and sat down, deciding if he was going to stay in here until bed-time, he should find something to occupy himself with.  _I wish I could read already, I'd pull out a book.  But I can only get the little words that Hook writes on the slate.  I can't do big sentences yet.  Idly, he flipped through Hook's logbook, looking curiously at the flowing script.  C_ursive, you learn that after print… it looks a bit like Fey script, with all the loops.  _Hook had put sketches in his book and made notes around them.  There were maps and drawings of places, a few sketches of him and some of the Lost Boys, and a really good one of Tinker Bell.  He stared at them for a long time, realizing that his own memory of how his friends looked was becoming fuzzy.  He kept turning the pages and found a diagram of his earring, and sketches of two women.  One was Human, the other looked to be a Tuatha Elf.  __They both look familiar.  Who are they and how does Hook know them?  There are no grown women, human or elf, in Neverland.  They both gave him curious feelings, though.  He felt drawn to the human woman, while the elf repulsed him.  _

After a few more pages, he found a loose sheet of paper that had been inserted between the pages.  Curiously, he picked it up and stared at it.  He remembered this, it was from about two weeks ago (days blurred together here and he didn't even bother keeping up).  Hook generally made him write on a slate, paper being a scarce resource, but every once in a while, he let Peter have a piece of paper to practice holding a quill and writing in ink.  This one had 'PETER' written on it in large, blocky print.  Beneath that, he had also written 'HOOK'.  He had been practicing writing his name when the captain had given him the paper, so he had decided to write his own name on something that wouldn't be erased.  On an impulse, he had asked the pirate to show him what 'Hook' looked like in letters, and had copied it down, too.  Hook had laughed and ruffled his hair (a habit the man had gotten into, which Peter absolutely hated), saying it looked like the boy had written the name 'Peter Hook'.  Disgusted, Peter had crumpled the paper up and tossed it aside.

"Is there a reason you are going through my personal logs, Peter?" Hook called from the doorway.

Peter didn't look up, not surprised at the captain's silent entry.  "Just bored, Captain.  Don't worry, I can't read your handwriting.  Why did you keep this?" Peter replied, holding up the piece of paper.

"A memento.  I'm proud of my teaching ability.  Who would have ever thought that I would have the patience and stamina to teach Peter Pan to write?" Hook replied.  Unbidden and unexpected, the thought arose, _Because I liked that you wrote Peter Hook, and I wish it were your name.  Hook shook his head at the strange notion, and sat in the other chair at the desk._

Peter nodded his head and put the paper back in the book.  "Would you read this to me?  I like the pictures."

"No.  This is my personal log, with my private thoughts in them.  I write things here I don't want other people to know."

"Then why write it down?  Sounds like the silly pirate habit of hiding your treasure, drawing a map, and leaving it where people will find it," Peter mused, a bewildered look on his face.

"It's a way to express yourself, your thoughts and feelings, to get them out so they don't build up inside.  And it's a record for things that happen that I think are important."

"Who are they, Captain?" Peter said suddenly, flipping back to the sketches of the two women.

Hook smiled, and closed the book.  "I told you, this is private.  When I'm dead and you can read, you're welcome to do with these as you please.  Until then, you are not to open it again.  Do I make myself clear?"

Peter wanted to protest, to tell Hook that these women were familiar and he needed to know, but he saw a dangerous glint in the Captain's eye, and nodded instead.  

_He's learned when not to press me, and sometimes he remembers to apply his lessons.  I will not explain tonight why I have a picture of his mother in my log, or who Shimi is._  He put the book out of sight, and turned back to Peter, who was looking around for something else to get into. 

"You played beautifully tonight.  Why did you throw you pipes into the flames?" Hook asked him.

Peter's face drew up into a pained expression.  He wished he hadn't done that, and he felt that he had lost yet another piece of himself tonight, another piece of Neverland.  "I don't know, sir.  It hurt so much to play them, but at the same time it felt wonderful.  I guess the hurt won, and I threw them away.  They were all I had left, and now they're gone."

"No, Billy fished them out of the coals, and got a bit burned for his thoughtfulness.  They got no worse than a slight singe," Hook answered, and saw the intense relief and gratefulness the boy felt.  "Did you make them?  How did you learn to play?"

"Someone gave them to me, sir.   I had them for as long as I remember.  I do know that they are made from different trees that are only found in Neverland.  The carvings on them are strange, not quite elvish, but definitely a kind of fey.  Tink said I wasn't allowed to read them because they say who I am.  The one who gave them to me taught me to play.  I can remember learning, but when I try to see the man teaching me, it's all shadows.  I remember that I liked him a lot."

"Your father?"

Peter recoiled as if slapped.  "No, sir, I don't remember my mother, but I know I had her.  I _never had a father."_

"I was just curious.  One day when you have gotten the hang of reading books, I will teach you to read music, and you can write your songs down."

"Read and write music?  How do you do that, sir?" Peter asked, an eager look in his eyes.

"Learn your current lessons first, and then we can move on to ones that are more interesting," Hook admonished.

"Like what?"

"Well," Hook thought, liking the interest Peter was showing, "Music, both the playing and reading of music, history, navigation and charting, astronomy, alchemy theory, philosophy, lots of things.  I have an extensive collection of books, and if we ever get out of this damned fairy realm, I can get more books, on any subject you'd like to learn."

_I don't want your lessons, Codfish.  Your head on a plate might be nice,_ a voice in Peter's head said softly.  _Shut up.  He's being nice and trying to cheer me up.  And I _do_ want to learn, I want the stories for myself.  Peter smiled, and ran to the bookshelf to get their current book down.  "Read me some more of this… and I'd like to watch as you say the words so I can see how they look on paper.  Please, Captain?" _

Hook laughed, took the book, and with Peter sitting next to him, began reading while he used his hook to point out the words.  

Late in the night, Hook was awakened by Peter calling out.  He sighed and waited a bit to see if the boy would work it out on his own, as he did occasionally.  But after a few minutes, the dream seemed to be intensifying, so Hook sat up and lit the lamp.  It annoyed him a bit sometimes to be awakened, but he saw it as another one of his duties.  He had asked for Peter and received him.  Now he had to deal with the boy and the responsibilities that came with him.  Some of Peter's habits and quirks could be changed.  Others he just had to accept.  _It's a good thing I never needed much sleep anyway._  He put one of his books on the nightstand, picked Peter up and sat back on his bed, arranging the pillows so he could be comfortable.  Sometimes this took about ten minutes, sometimes an hour, so Hook always assumed the worst and settled in for a long spell.  He read as he held the boy, occasionally reading a passage out loud.  Tonight was a medium night, and in about fifteen or twenty minutes, Peter was calm.  Hook was immersed in the chapter, and decided to finish it before putting the boy back.  He was nearly done when suddenly Peter gave a cry and woke with a start.

"Shimi!" he yelled, looking around wildly.  He saw where he was and the startled look on Hook's face, and suddenly threw his arms around the man's neck, holding on tight.

"Peter," Hook said, confused and a little lost.  "Are you alright?"

"I had a memory," he said, voice muffled where his head was buried under Hook's chin.

"A nightmare?"

"No, a memory.  The were-hag, Shimi.  I saw her.  That's the elf in your book, when she was young.  Make the monster go away.  You always make them go away.  Don't let me go," Peter babbled, approaching hysterics.

A bit at a loss, Hook gingerly hugged the child back.  "She's not here.  Like you said, she's just a memory.  Memories can't hurt you unless you let them."

Peter relaxed a bit, and after a few moments withdrew his arms.  Hook let him go and Peter climbed out of the man's lap and sat at the end of the bed.  His face was a bit flushed and he wouldn't look at the captain.  "Thank you," he muttered.

Hook picked up his book and set it back on the nightstand.  He could tell Peter was upset and embarrassed; he himself didn't quite know how to relieve the awkward tension.  "So?  What was the memory?" he asked, deciding to act as if this was normal (_well, this IS normal, even if Peter doesn't know it_).

Peter looked mildly relieved and faced the captain.  He drew his legs up and rested his elbows on his knees.  "I remembered a lot.  I remember lots of things, but I usually forget them again, so I might forget this later, too.  Maybe you can remember for me."  He began fidgeting, his fingers clasping together, curling around each other, then breaking apart to tap on his legs or each other, then finding their way back together again. 

_He's nervous.  I've never seen him nervous.  I've seen him fidget when he was restless or bored, but he's shaking._  "Tell me what it was.  If it's bothering you, get it out or it will build up inside and get worse.  Since you can't write it down like I can, you should tell me."

Peter sighed shakily and began.  "Long time ago, when I was smaller, there was a Tuatha Elf that lived in the were-forest.  Except then it wasn't the were-forest, it was a beautiful wood, I forget what we called it.  The trees were huge, and lots of them had good fruit that grew nowhere else in Neverland.  The elf was named Shimi, and she was really nice and pretty.  We were always welcome in her wood, and lots of times at her house, too.  She even had a special tree in her yard that was magical, and if the moons were right, it would bear fruit that tasted like cakes and candies.  We would come then and have a festival, with music and dancing, and make ourselves sick eating the candy-fruits.  I liked her a lot, and she was always extra nice to me.  She told me to call her Aunt Shimi, because her and my mommy was good friends and she helped me to be born.

"One day, everyone had to go do something important, and I got left behind.  All of the others were bigger than me… I was smaller than Tootles, but this was before Tootles came.  I wasn't supposed to be left alone, even though I could take care of myself.  For some reason, bad things always tried to happen to me.  If someone found a poisonous snake, it would slither straight for me and bite me.  If we were swimming and a shark came, it would come for me even if I was in the shallows and it had to beach itself to reach me.  Kaylee said someone was causing these things to happen, but she didn't know who or why, so someone always had to be with me.  It was usually Tink, but she was still really young, so she had to be in Tintagel a lot to learn how to use her magic.  So this time I got left with Shimi, but I didn't mind.

"I had never been completely alone with her before.  But I trusted her, so I didn't think about it.  She made me some cookies and some chocolate to drink – I had never had chocolate before.  I ate a lot of the cookies, and drank the whole cup of chocolate.  Then I got sick.  My stomach hurt and I got dizzy, then I felt like I was on fire.  I cried a lot and asked her to help me, but she just sat and watched.  It got worse and worse, and it seemed to go on forever.  It must have been a really long time, because Shimi got angry and started yelling at me to stop crying and hurry up and die.  I think that hurt me worse – I thought she loved me… I loved _her_… I trusted her, and she wanted me to die.  But I couldn't die, and it kept getting worse and I begged her to make it stop.

"Then it did stop; suddenly the pain was gone and I felt like I was floating.  I couldn't move or talk, and I was so tired… Shimi was crying.  She said she didn't want me to suffer, she just wanted me gone.  She had used magic poison that she thought would kill a human quickly and without pain.  As it turned out, it should have, but because of the fairy magic in me, something she didn't foresee happened.  My magic and the poison's magic fought, and it was the battle that made me hurt and nearly killed me.  Shimi finally used the antidote spell to stop the poison, or else I would have suffered all day, and maybe all night before I died.

"She tried to make me better, but it had gone on too long and I was too weak.  She finally left me in our tree-village, in my own bed.  Mommy found me the next day.  I was sick for a long time and couldn't talk, but they knew that Shimi had done something. 

"The fey talked to me when I was better and I told them what had happened.  They punished her – took away most of her magic.  She became old and never again left her forest.  The trees themselves became mean and would try to catch you, and they no longer made fruit that you could eat.  We weren't allowed in the forest anymore and Shimi was shunned.  I never knew why she hated me.  She's the first being that wanted to kill me, and I never even knew what I had done to deserve it."

Peter finished his story and took a deep breath.  He cocked his head to the side and smiled, "You're right.  I do feel better."

"Good.  Maybe now we can go back to sleep."

"Why did you draw pictures of Kaylee and Shimi?"

Hook glared at Peter, annoyed.  Peter returned the stare, waiting for an answer.  "Go to bed.  Now," Hook snapped, feeling his patience slip.  When Peter didn't move fast enough, he waved his hook threateningly and Peter jumped out of the way.  He climbed onto his cot and lay down.  Hook extinguished his lamp and settled down to sleep.

"Why won't you tell me?" Peter said suddenly, ignoring Hook's warning growl.  "You obviously saw Shimi and my mother.  How can you have seen them when Shimi is old now and Kaylee is dead?"

Hook said nothing, choosing to let his silence speak for itself.  If he let the boy goad him, he'd end up doing something rash and painful.  Peter apparently took the hint, and did not press the issue further.

It didn't seem that he had been asleep long when Peter awoke him again with his moans. 

"Twice in one night?  I sincerely hope this isn't the start of something new, Peter," Hook muttered as he got up again.  It took a bit longer to calm the boy this time, but eventually he was sleeping soundly.  Hook was gathering Peter up to put him in bed, when he saw the boy was awake.

"Why do you do this?" Peter asked quietly.

"It's the only thing that I know to do to calm you when you have a nightmare.  If I let you keep having it, the next one is worse and you are difficult in the morning."

"Like when I was keeping everyone awake… but you did it before then too," Peter said, nodding.  "I knew you were doing it, I've woken up before.  I hear your heartbeat in my dreams, and the bad things go away.  I sometimes wake up after that, knowing I had the dream but I can't remember it, and you are holding me." Peter sighed and pushed on, "I feel safe… even though you've hurt me so much, I feel safe.  Isn't that odd?"

"No, not odd.  We can sense each other.  You know inside that I won't hurt you when you need me like this.  And I won't let anyone else hurt you, so if I am here with you, I will protect you against the monsters that haunt you.  You are mine, Peter.  I own you, you are my prize.  No one but me is allowed to hurt you, and I'll kill anyone that tries."

Hook's words resonated inside Peter's mind, and he thought about them for awhile.  He felt a bit sad and disappointed by Hook referring to him as merely a prize, but he also felt relieved and encouraged that the man had promised to keep the monsters away.  But once again, his feeling towards Hook, and the sense of Hook's feelings confused and frightened him, so he pushed them aside and sat up.  He felt the room spin and lay back down, groaning softly.

"What's wrong?"

"Dizzy.  I've had two nightmares that I woke from… I don't want another one.  I'm tired and you need sleep, too."

Hook thought for a moment, and then helped Peter to his cot.  He went to his desk and pulled out a flask of whiskey.  "I'm going to give you some of this.  It might make you sleep more deeply, and carry you beyond dreaming.  We'll see how it works."  He poured some – about two shots worth – into a cup and gave it to Peter.

Peter recognized the smell and grimaced.  But, he remembered how it had relaxed him and made the pain go away before, so he quickly downed the contents.  It worked on him fast and soon he drifted off to dreamless slumber.  And to Hook's relief, neither one of them awoke till morning.


	10. Hope

Peter was fairly depressed the next day, but he tried to hide it.  He kept thinking about the night before:  the music, the memories, the images of his friends in Hook's journal, and the Captain's fresh reminder that Peter was merely a trophy, nothing more significant than plunder he might have taken from a ship.  But he tried to keep his spirits up.  He was attentive in his lessons, did his chores with no arguments, and completed his tasks well.  He and Billy even horsed around a bit, as they usually did, but Peter couldn't put his heart into it.  The crew saw through the façade, at least the old crew did.  The biggest tell that the boy was forcing himself to act this way was this:  he said 'sir' without fail to Hook.  The hardest thing for Peter to remember was to address the Captain properly, mainly because he didn't want to show the man the respect he hadn't earned from Peter.  He was usually chastised or even punished at least twice a day for that transgression, but by midday he had not committed a single infraction.  

Things changed over lunch.  Peter found that he couldn't stomach the food, no matter how hard he pretended, below deck.  The dark and the smells on the ship were starting to get to him, and it made him nauseous today to try to eat in the kitchen.  So, he and Billy carried their food to the deck to eat in the fresh air.  Fortunately, it was a bright, clear day, perfect for a 'picnic'.  

"Ow!" Peter cried.  He had bitten into a piece of hardtack, and felt a sharp pain in his mouth.  He spit the food back out into his palm, and stared in horror at seeing his front tooth lying there, too.

Billy saw the look on Peter's face and became alarmed.  "What's wrong, cully?"  Peter held out his hand for Jukes to see the tooth.  

"It came out!  What do I do?" he gasped.

Billy laughed when he saw the tooth and the gap in Peter's mouth.  "Hey everybody, look!  Peter lost a tooth!"

"What?" Hook called, striding towards the boys.  _Surely he doesn't have scurvy? I haven't noticed any symptoms.  "Open your mouth, Peter."  Peter complied, opening wide and not flinching when Hook examined his teeth and gums.  "You've got a new tooth coming in, that's why this one fell out."  He saw that Peter still had an alarmed, confused look on his face, and suddenly had a thought.  "Have you ever lost a tooth before?"_

"No, sir.  I didn't know that people could lose them.  Is this supposed to happen?" Peter said slowly.

"Aren't you a little old to be just losing your first tooth?" Mr. Little asked as he joined the circle of pirates listening to the conversation.  "You should be getting the last of your permanent teeth by now."

Hook chuckled and ruffled the boy's hair.  "Peter's not done many things he should have done by now.  But we are working on it.  Yes Peter, this is supposed to happen.  Are there any more loose ones?"  Peter felt around for a bit, then nodded.  "Good!  Congratulations, boy!  You're growing up!  You'll be losing more baby teeth, but your adult teeth will grow in soon enough."

Peter stood staring, very white.  _No, it can't be true.  I'm not meant to grow up!  It was forbidden!  He'd been able to dismiss the evidence before, when Smee had unrolled his pants and shirt some and re-hemmed them.  He had convinced himself that his clothes had merely shrunk.  But now, his own body was giving him proof that he was aging._

"Put it under your pillow tonight and the tooth fairy will come visit ya!" Mr. Davis teased.  Suddenly, he found himself dangling from Hook's hook, staring into the Captain's flaming eyes.

"There will be no talk of fairies on my ship!" Hook stated coldly.  "You new men and I have some things to discuss in reference to my cabin boy.  There are rules I have yet to tell you of, but I shall rectify that in a little while."  He dropped Davis and turned to Peter.  He saw hope in the boy's eyes and knew he had to crush it.  

"Give me the tooth, Peter," he said coolly. 

Peter backed up a step and clutched the tooth tightly in his hand.  He glared at Hook and shook his head no.  When the Captain moved to grab him, he ducked and ran.

"Get me that boy!  And his tooth!" Hook roared as he pursued the fleeing child.

Peter knew he only had the slimmest of chances, but he wouldn't give up without a fight.  If he could summon a fairy with his tooth, she could tell the other fey that he was still alive!  They would come for him and take him home!  His hope gave him strength and speed and he was able to dodge the pirates for a long time.  He went up the rigging for awhile, and when most of the men were in it, he swung down to the deck so swiftly some thought he was either flying or falling.  

Peter dashed below decks, knocking Cookson over and hiding among the stores.  When the crew followed, Hook stopped short and held back Mason and Jukes.  He motioned for the other two to hide, and once the last of the rest of the men were below, the deck appeared abandoned.  Sure enough, after several minutes, Peter crept out of the hatch, looked around, then closed and locked the door.  He quickly made his way to the cabin, but before he got there, Jukes and Mason stepped out and blocked his path.  He turned quickly and found himself facing Hook's belt buckle.  He froze and a large, familiar hand gripped his shoulder and held him fast.  

He was lifted up to stare into Hook's extremely angry eyes.  "Give me the tooth.  Now," the man growled.  Peter hesitated and Hook backhanded him.  The blow stunned him and he dropped the tooth to the deck.

"What will it take?" Hook asked him quietly, "I've tried kindness and I've tried cruelty.  Nothing works.  'How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child'."  

Peter took a moment to gather himself and stared back at the pirate.  For a moment he thought the man looked hurt.  He made a wry face and shook his head slowly.  "Thankless?  What have you done that I should be thankful for?" he countered just as quietly.

"What have I done?" Hook looked incredulous.  "I have done everything for you!  I have treated you as a crewman!  I have succored you when you were ill and injured, and given you comfort when you were sad.  I have taken your education into my own hands and given you the tools with which you can make a place for yourself in the world."

"My hurts and sickness were given to me by _you_," Peter screamed.  "You took me from my home.  Neverland was my world, my _life, and you ripped it away!  I was happy.  I was healthy.  I was free and I was loved… but not anymore.  I have no joy left in my life, and I can feel myself dying a bit more each day.  You call me a crewman, but I'm your prize, and no more than a prisoner.  And no-one here loves me."  Peter's voice cracked and he stopped.  He hung from the hook unresisting and waited for the punishment he knew would come next.  _

Hook sighed in exasperation and looked at Mason.  "Let those fools out, and tell everyone to get back to work.  I will deal with my cabin-boy when I'm less likely to do him permanent harm."

Mason crossed the deck to the hatch quickly and loosened the bar.  Without a second glance back, Hook set the boy down, grabbed the tooth from the deck, and dragged Peter to his cabin.  

"I seriously do not know what I am going to do with you, Peter," Hook growled as he shut his door.  He crossed to his desk and sat in his chair.

"I thought you had this all figured out, Captain," Pan said insolently.  "You had everything else so carefully planned, and got away with me."  Peter thought back to that fateful day, and absently tugged on his earring.  "I thought you wanted to make me into everything I hated, to make me betray myself and become like you."

"That was my intention at first.  I still intend to make you like me, but for an entirely different reason."  Hook saw the confused look on Peter's face and continued, "When you claimed to not fear death, because as a child you would go to heaven, you spoiled any satisfaction I could ever get in killing you.  So I decided to find a way to force you to live, and grow up, and become like me… and make you suffer through all the pain and misery of growing up and growing old.  Taking your life would not have pained you as much as taking your youth and innocence.  But the blasted fairy magic that I needed to pull you away changed things.  I still intend for you to grow up, boy, never doubt that.  But I do not wish to see you suffer to do it.  I want you to become the man I envisioned, as I told you before.  Not to make you betray who you were, but to realize the potential you were born with.  I don't want to punish you, Peter.  I want you to adjust and to do what you're expected.  I want you to learn what you need to become a powerful, respected Captain in your own time."

"I don't want to be a pirate.  Not right now.  I can't let a chance to go home slip by.  You know I won't give up, while I think there's still a chance," Pan said, standing up straight and proud.

"I know, and I don't expect any less from you.  I would have been disappointed if you had just handed the damned tooth to me.  But, at the same time, I cannot allow you to flaunt my orders and disobey me, especially in front of the new crewmen.  I won't be able to keep order if they think a mere cabin-boy can make a fool of me and my whole crew without punishment," Hook said sternly, waiting for the boy to protest.

But Peter did not.  _This last chance came to me unlooked-for.  Others will come, and I'll try again.  Maybe I can steal my tooth back, or Hook will lose count and I can keep one of mine.  I'll find a way. _ "Ay, sir.  I won't give up.  But I've lost this time," suddenly he had a thought of Hook making him walk the plank or keel-hauling him for punishment.  _Hook would kill any of his crew that did what I did.  "Wh-what are you going to do to me?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned, but failing.  Most of the times his punishments were not severe, merely annoying or embarrassing, but if Hook saw this as a serious transgression, he could very well not wake up, or not wake up intact.  _

Hook saw the boy's worry and smiled.  _There's the touch of fear I need in him.  It's just a touch, to make him compliant, but not too much and make him cower.  "For a crewman to do what you did, at the least he would taste the cat.  Most likely I'd have him thrown overboard.  But you, boy are a special case, and I will make sure the crew realize that your special status is not an enviable position.  You'll get ten lashes, more if you resist further.  In addition, I will be adding new lessons to your school-load, and you will get extra chores for two weeks – none of which will be with Mr. Jukes, since the two of you have quit trying to kill each other and now are inexplicably best of friends.  I still do not quite understand that, perhaps you can explain one day how you always seem to get people to like you.  You'll be helping Cookson in the kitchen, and an extra time with the bilge pump.  Now, I consider this light punishment, no doubt the rest of the men will too."_

Peter stared at the floor.  _At least he didn't beat me up when he finally caught me, or I'd be waking in the brig again with more broken ribs… or worse._  As he always did when he remembered something painful that Hook had done to him, he lightly rubbed the almost-healed cross-bones on his breast.  "More lessons, Captain?  I don't think I can learn much more before my head's full," he said with a groan.

Hook stared at Peter, flabbergasted.  _I give him chores and lashes, and he complains of schooling?  Perhaps I should consider school work more often for his punishments.  He'll learn more.  "Don't worry, boy, you're head is empty enough, I could never fill it in both our lifetimes.  Besides, I think you might not hate the new lessons as much as you think you will.  But that's for later.  The men are expecting judgment, and we had best not keep them waiting."_

He herded the downcast boy back out onto the deck.  He stood the boy before the assembled crew on deck and called out his sentence.  "You, Mr. Pan, are guilty of disobeying the Captain's orders and of attempting to escape.  For the first offense, you shall receive no less than 10 lashes, administered by myself.  For the second offense, you shall be given extra duties for a duration of two weeks, plus more special tasks that I will assign you.  If you have the energy to run about on ship and lead my crew on a merry chase, then you shall work off that energy in the kitchen and the bilge.  Mr. Mullins, make him ready for his first punishment!"

"Lad, you really need to learn.  Don't worry 'bout yellin', we've all tasted the cat afore, and none of us will think less of ya if ya cry," Mullins muttered to the boy as he led him to the mast.  He took the boy's shirt from him and set it aside as he reached for the rope.  

Peter turned to look at the men that were staring at him, and none of the new crew missed the Captain's insignia on his chest.  Mr. Little frowned, and looked from the boy to the Captain, and then saw that his own old shipmates looked back at him in concern.  _What kind of man brands a child like that?  He seemed rather fond of the boy last night. _ Then Mullins had the boy facing the mast, and bound his arms around it so that he hugged the wood tightly.  Hook flogged Peter, but held himself back enough that he took off no more skin than he had to.  He couldn't go light on the boy, as a part of him wished, but neither could he take the hide off the lad's back as another part of him urged.  

Peter, for his own part, tried to show his fortitude by not crying out.  But, as the last few strokes crisscrossed other scratches on his back, he couldn't help himself.  But he held back his tears, and when it was done and Mullins untied him, he stood up straight and faced the men again.  _I've changed my mind, Peter thought as he suppressed his tears, _I'd rather have the lessons than the lashes._  He glanced at Hook, who was putting away the flail, and that part of him that hated the man surged forward.  He shook it away after a moment, knowing that Hook had not hurt him as much as he could have (_would_ have if this had been two months ago).  _

"Come on, then lad," Smee soothed as he took Peter by the arm.  "Down to th' brig, and I'll put sumpthin on that to cool it off a bit…"

"No," Hook said coldly, stopping the two in their tracks, "my quarters.  Tend his back there.  He's got more loose teeth in that empty head of his.  I don't want him losing one and bringing one of those damned pixies here!  I'm keeping count of his teeth, and I don't want him trying anything else stupid."

"Ay, Cap'n.  C'mon lad," Smee led Peter to his cot, taking the salve that Jukes had gone to fetch (instead of watching Peter being lashed).  Once there, Peter laid face down on the bed and gritted his teeth while Smee put the ointment on his back.  It stung, a lot, being the same stuff Smee had put on his foot and chest before, but as usual, it eased the pain and soon his back was nearly numb.  While Smee administered to him, Hook and Mr. Little entered.

"Sit, Little.  Ignore them," Hook waited for compliance, and then continued.  "You heard my men telling tales of a place called Neverland last night.  An island, where mythical creatures like fairies and mermaids lived, and children flew and never aged."

"Ay, I heard them.  Good stories, too.  Once could almost believe them, the way the men told them," Little replied.

"It's true," Hook said simply.  

Little looked at the man in alarm.  _Surely he jests… no, I can see in his face he believes what he says.  I hope I have not thrown in my lot with a madman!  "That's not possible, sir," he said, not bothering to contain his disbelief._

"Ay, it is.  My men and I endured that place for an untold length of time while I pursued my revenge.  You see, I lost my hand there."

"I wondered at that, and figured we would hear a tale of that last night.  But strangely, your men did not speak on it."

"The whelp lying on that bunk there did it!" Hook yelled, slamming his hook onto the desk.  Recounting the story stirred his ill feelings toward Peter, but he forced himself to calm down when he saw the child on the cot cringe at his outburst.  "He lived there, and led a gang of boys, called Lost Boys.  They inhabited it with a tribe of Indians and a host of fairy creatures.  Because of the magic that created that place, the children could never grow up.  When exposed to magical pixie-dust, they could fly to great heights and considerable distances.  

"On our first day at the island, Peter and I clashed.  I underestimated him, severely.  I assumed him a mere child, and did not realize how dangerous he was.  We fought horribly, and he cut off my hand.  What's worse, he fed it to a crocodile, which happened to be the largest one on the island.  That croc hunted for the rest of me until the day I left.  I swore vengeance, and spent the remainder of my time there fighting that boy."

Little looked at the small pale child lying on the cot and shook his head in disbelief.  "Frankly, sir, he doesn't look like much."

"Ay, I've clipped his wings.  We fought for a long time.  I think we were there for many years – but none of us aged.  Time is meaningless here in the fairy realm.  Finally, one day, I found the magic to cut him away from the island and bring him with us.  I wanted revenge, and what better vengeance for an eternal child that to grow him up.  He no longer flies, and he can never go back.  I have made him a full member of my crew, though he is a hostile one and bears watching.  You and your men will keep a lookout for him, but none may torment him.  He is _my prize, to do with as I please.  He is formidable, and I have to tame him properly."_

"How old is he?  To have only lost his first tooth today, children are usually five or six when that happens," Little mused.  Peter turned his face from the wall to watch them.

"I don't know.  He's apparently done most of his growing in Neverland, and that was done irregularly.  He appears to be ten, but he could be older or younger," Hook explained, but Peter interrupted him.

"I was an infant longer than you were a child.  I was five for a lifetime or three.  I missed six and seven, maybe eight too.  I flew through the Never-trees before even Mr. Smee was born.  Tootles, the last to join me, flew with me before James Hook drew breath.  Your parents whispered of me and held you all tight, fearful I would come collect you," Peter chanted in a flat dull voice, a distant look in his eyes. 

"Lad, are ya alright?" Smee asked.  He laid his hand on the boy's back and Peter startled.  He blinked as if just awakening, and turned his head back to face the wall.

Hook and Little stared at the boy awhile longer, lost in their own thoughts.  Hook wondered what Peter might have been remembering before Smee distracted him.  Little began to wonder if maybe the Captain was being serious, because the boy definitely seemed strange.  

"If he's so dangerous, sir, why keep him?" Little said suddenly, breaking the silence.  

"He cannot kill me.  The magic I used binds him to me, and he is unable to break it.  I want him to grow.  I want to raise him, and make him into the greatest pirate to sail the seas.  He has the ability, I've seen it."

"If he hates you, it will be difficult."

"No," Hook said with a bit of a sigh, "If he hates me that will make it easiest."  _The problem is that I find it harder everyday to hate him back._  He shook his head.  "I want you to tell your men what I have said.  Remind them that he is a crewmate, not a slave or a prisoner, and he is MY cabin-boy.  My old crew has grown fond of him, and they will not tolerate him being harmed."

"My fellows will not harm him.  I will vouch for most of them.  But watch Mr. Davis, he was a bully and a thief on the old ship, and I like him not."  With that, Hook dismissed the man and Little left.

When Smee had finished, Peter sat up carefully and eased his shirt back on.  He turned to the captain, who was watching him intently, and returned the stare for awhile.

"Is it true?" he asked suddenly

"Is what true?" Hook returned.

"'My old crew has grown fond of him'," he mimicked Hook's voice perfectly.

"I haven't heard you do that in awhile, boy," Hook said softly.

"Ay, lad, it's true," interrupted Smee.  "We all like ya well enough, and we've accepted ya as shipmate.  We jus' wish ya wassn't so troublesome.  And some o' us fear ya might be breakin' loose one night, and murderin' us in our sleep afore ya flies off."

Peter looked at Smee, anxious that the old man harbored such thoughts.  He grasped Smee's arm and gave him a small smile, "You and the men needn't fear me. I'll not hurt them, unless they tried to hurt me."

"Peter," Hook called, sparing the bos'un from having to reply.  Peter looked towards the man and waited.  "Whenever you lose a tooth, you will bring it directly to me.  I'll give you a coin in trade for it, as the tooth fairy is reputed to do.  I don't know if she is real, but I will take no chances.  I will be checking your mouth every night, to make sure."

"Ay, sir," Peter replied sullenly.

"Smee, back to your station.  Peter, you're excused from duty today.  Now tell me, have you ever played chess?"

Peter frowned at the sudden change of subject.  "Chess?  Is that a game?"

"Yes, a game.  I have an old set that I have not used in many years.  No one of my old crew had wit enough to make the game interesting.  You, however, were always a good strategist.  If you want, I will show you how to play.  You won't have to face the men for awhile if we play," Hook offered, going to his trunk to pull out the set.  _Besides, I want your mind to remain sharp.  You should have been able to avoid me and my men for much longer than that today, but you were sloppy.  You haven't had the mental exercises you need since you came aboard, besides memorizing lessons._

Peter, however, was smiling.  _Play a game?  I didn't think I ever would again.  And to match wits with Hook… _"Yes, sir.  I'd like to learn to play it."

"Sit, then, and I'll show you how this goes."  

They played several matches until time for Peter's evening lessons and supper, and Hook won all of them.  But Peter was a fast learner, especially when he was challenged.  This game involved more strategy than he ever had to use before, but he relished the battle.  He vowed he would master the game, and focused all of his attention on the board and questioned Hook about strategies.  They played again before bedtime (Peter asked to play again instead of hearing a story), and Hook found himself greatly challenged by the sharp child.

_Formidable, indeed,_ thought Hook as he lay in bed that night.  Peter was asleep, and despite they day's events, he hadn't cried before dropping off.  _He is fast and he is cunning.  He is proud and he has spirit.  He has skill with a blade, but that needs honing.  I could do so much with him.  Together, we would rule the seas!_


	11. After Hope

As usual, Peter awoke just before Hook, and spent those precious few minutes in quiet.  He lay still, watching as the room lightened and listened to the man snore softly.  At times like this, Peter felt peace within himself.  He could feel without Hook's strong emotions intruding (though he was getting better everyday at blocking them, and unless Hook was very upset, he had to reach now to get a sense of how Hook felt), but at the same time, his connection to the man felt stronger. Their link was at its strongest when he would awaken in the Captain's arms while Hook slept – a combination of physical contact and Hook's guard being down, Peter supposed.  At those times, he thought he could almost see Hook's mind, but that idea frightened him and brought back memories of when the man had broken him.

Peter noticed his arm was numb from lying on his side, so he rolled onto his back.  He immediately remembered why he had been on his side as stinging pains raced up his spine.  He hissed and sat up quickly.

"Good morning, Captain," he said brightly, knowing he had awakened the man.  He rubbed his arm briskly to restore the circulation.

"Ay," Hook muttered and opened his eyes.  He looked at the boy critically, "What are you doing?"

"My arm's asleep," Peter answered.  He flexed his fingers as the tingling sensations intensified, then proceeded to get dressed.  He went to the galley to get their breakfast and give Hook time to get dressed and shave.  Shaving fascinated Peter, but Hook seemed to knick himself more when the boy stared at him, so he usually did it while Peter was out.  He chatted with Billy a bit, but noticed the new crewmen were looking at him strangely.

Billy noticed, too, and whispered to Peter, "Starkey and Mullins regaled them all night with stories of your exploits in Neverland.  The new guys were especially curious about your scar; seems they were concerned that it might be a customary punishment."

"What were they told?" Peter asked, frowning, "and what did they think?"

"Well, we told 'em you got it 'cause you tried to murder the Cap'n and jump ship.  Cookson even showed them the marks on his head.  They think yer some kind of demon-child that's havin' to learn to act human again.  They're wary of you, which is good.  Sailors like to give ship-boys a hard time, and my first months on ship were pretty bad.  If you can make 'em respect you, then they'll leave you alone."

Peter sighed, "I don't want anyone to 'respect' me through fear and hate.  That's Hook's way, not mine."

"That's the pirate way, Peter," Jukes corrected.  "I respect you, and I like you, but you do frighten me sometimes.  I remember who you are…"

"Were," Peter corrected, "Hook's changed me with that spell.  I can feel a part of him in my mind, and it's changed me.  The part of me that is still the old Pan is still there, but it's separate somehow.  Every day I feel more like I have two minds, one that wants to belong here, and one that hates this life.  I'm warming up to this place, I miss home but if I can fit in, I could learn to be happy here."  Peter could be honest with Billy, more so than any other person on the ship.  He knew the boy wouldn't tell anyone what he said, and like Hook said, things were better if you got them out.

"Cheer up, me bucko," Jukes said as he playfully shoved Peter.  "Things change, and it's a sad life that doesn't.  Enjoy what you've got, and don't regret what's gone – just be thankful you had it.  It's a better lot that most people get to enjoy."

Peter smiled at his friend and shoved him back.  He picked up the tray and made his way back towards the cabin.  

On deck, Mr. Davis was practicing his knife throwing, aiming at a black dot on a barrel.  He gave Peter an ugly smile as the boy passed.  Peter nodded in return and kept walking.  He didn't like Davis, something about the man felt wrong and set him on edge, and he thought it better to just ignore him but remain civil.  He heard a whistle and a thump behind him.  He turned around and saw one of the knives embedded in the mast, at eye level just behind him.

"I hear yer a great fighter.  I hear ya can do all sorts of amazing things with a blade, and yer so dangerous only the Cap'n can deal with ya.  Lotta horseshit if ya ask me.  It'll be a cold day indeed afore a spoilt little whelp like you gets the best of Tom Davis."

"Leave 'im be," Mason growled from the wheel.

"If he's half the demon you chaps made out, he don' need _you babysittin' 'im!" Davis growled._

"If you don't mind, Mr. Davis, but I have more important duties than listening to you yap.  The Captain's breakfast is getting cold," Peter said in a steely voice.

"Well ya don't want to keep the Cap'n waitin',"Davis sneered.

Peter turned and took another step.  There was another thump, and a knife hilt was suddenly protruding from the deck where Peter's next step should have been.

"I didn't say you could go yet, brat," Davis growled.  He had three more knives on him, and a look in his eye promised that he would use them.

Peter set the tray on the deck and yanked the knife from the wood at his feet.  He tested the weight and balance in his hand – it felt good to hold a blade again.  It had been weeks (_months?  I can't remember) since he had last wielded a weapon.  He stared at the big man critically for a moment, then with barely a glance at the target, he flicked his wrist and sent the blade hurtling towards the black spot.  His aim apparently was still true, and the knife embedded itself in the dead center of the bull's-eye, nestled among the other knives that encircled it._

McLeery whistled appreciatively, but Mason shouted, "Peter!  Lad, yer getting' rusty.  Cap'n oughtta let ya practice again."

Davis's face turned purple and he scowled.  "I'll not be made a fool of by a little boy," he sneered.

"You don't need me to make a fool of you, you do just fine on your own," Pan called back mockingly.  The old light was in his eyes again, and his stance was the cocky pose he'd often struck when taunting Hook.  He allowed the angry aspect of himself to take over, knowing it was best suited for dealing with bullies:  it had dealt with Hook well enough before.

"There's the old Pan, for sure," Jukes breathed, and those of the old crew that heard him nodded.  No one noticed Hook in the doorway, watching with a dangerous look in his eye.  He had been watching for Peter, to tell him of his surprise, when he saw what Davis was doing.  He watched now, letting Peter stand up for himself as he must.  But the pose and tone both encouraged and enraged him, and he held himself to a fine line as he watched.

Davis drew one of his remaining daggers.  "Go back to yer Cap'n, brat, afore I have to hurt ya.  Let him coddle and bugger ya to 'is heart's content," Davis spat, heedless of his danger.

Pan didn't know or care what the man had meant, but he saw the shock and anger on the other men's faces and knew it was a deadly insult.  But he also felt the Captain's sudden flood of rage and hate, flowing into him and overwhelming his own thoughts and feelings.  Without realizing why, knowing only that he must, he attacked the filthy pirate.

Pan charged the large man, who grinned hideously and made ready to knock the boy aside.  At the last moment, Pan dove and rolled under the swipe.  When he was within reach, he leapt up and plucked the last two daggers from the man's belt.  In a whirl, he dove again to the side to avoid a vicious cut from Davis's knife hand.  Wielding a blade in each fist, he dodged behind the man and gave him a couple of scores on the backs of his legs.

He didn't want to kill the man, though he felt that Hook wanted him to.  If left to his own devices, he would merely have humiliated the pirate.  But the rage spilling into him was pushing him further, making him want to hurt the man as much as he could.  And seeing the blood and hearing Davis yell at the pain frenzied him even further.  He circled the man, dodging and leaping – never being where he seemed to be headed.  He scored dozens of small hits, cutting and stabbing Davis on his arms, legs, back… anywhere he could reach.

Davis was nearly insane with pain and frustration, and struck back in a blind rage.  He screamed and swore, and tried to kill the lightning quick boy whenever he actually caught sight of him.  Pan giggled manically, hurling his own taunts, some in fey.  He spun, deftly handling the two blades and appeared as a blur, blades sparkling in the sun.  No one dared interfere, knowing that both combatants were too dangerous and could turn on them too.  Hook watched from the doorway, still enraged, but smiling in satisfaction at each hit.  He could feel Peter's bloodlust and enjoyed every moment of it.

After a few minutes, Pan became bored.  The man was an oaf, a nobody who was not worth his attention, and he decided he'd played enough.  He came around in front of Davis, low on his knees.  He struck out and drove the hilt end of one dagger hard into the man's groin.  Davis's breath gushed out and he crumpled to the deck in agony.  Pan laughed and crowed for the first time since he was brought aboard.  He leapt on the man to cut his throat and end the game.

Mason grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms, and hauled him back.  Pan kicked and swore, trying to wriggle free of the strong man's grasp.

"Release me, Mason or I swear, I'll…" Pan's voice was cut off as Mason squeezed, forcing the air from his lungs and hurting his cracked ribs.

"You'll what?  Murder me?  Peter, calm down.  You don't wanna kill 'em.  He ain't worth it, lad," Mason whispered in the boy's ear, trying to sooth him.

Suddenly, Peter came back to his senses, and he sagged in Mason's arms.  _I almost killed that man.  What happened?  I enjoyed__ hurting him!  What's wrong with me?  Mason felt him relax and let him down, but kept a firm grip on his shoulder._

Little and Corzone went to Davis and checked on him.  Besides being racked and suffering from numerous painful, bleeding (but none deadly) wounds, he was fine.  They helped him to his feet, and restrained him when he tried to lunge for Peter again.  "You idiot," Little hissed, "even if that boy hadn't proved the truth of himself, you're still screwed.  Captain Hook was on deck while you mouthed off.  I won't have you endangering our new place on this ship.  If you do anything like that again, I'll kill you myself!"

"Well done, Pan," Hook purred as he approached the scene.  "Mr. Mason, would you please disarm the boy?  I don't want him killing Davis."  Hook glared at the man and continued, "especially since I am reserving that right for myself."  Hook's eyes glittered as he approached Davis.  "Peter's satisfied his honor, but I have yet to satisfy my own.  Peter is special to me.  Because of our history and our bond, it behooves me to afford him special consideration in certain matters.  But you've offended me with your base slander, cur, as to suggest I would molest him.  Take this dog to the brig.  I don't want any more of his foul blood staining my deck!"

Davis was removed, and Hook turned back to Peter.  "Go to the cabin and wash up."  

Peter, barely breathing hard and as calm looking as stone, nodded and went to their quarters.

Once Peter was safely inside and out of sight, he began to shake.  He looked at his hands and saw splatters of blood on them, and on his shirt.  He hastily removed his shirt and ran to the washbowl Hook had left out to do his shaving with.  He furiously scrubbed his hands, especially beneath his nails, continuing long after the last speck of blood was gone.  

Hook entered a few minutes after Peter did, and watched the boy wash.  That Peter was distressed was obvious, and Hook felt he should comfort the boy.  _He made me proud.  I saw the first fruits of my labor today.  Imagine that same scene, but age him eight or ten years…  Hook felt an intense pleasure at the thought and walked up to the boy._

"Peter," he said softly.

Peter yelped in surprise, ducked and spun in alarm.  He stared at the Captain with wide, frightened eyes, and it was obvious he had been crying.  He backed up slowly till he pressed against the wall.  "I'm sorry.  I don't know why… I didn't want to.  I tried to stop and I couldn't.  Please don't hurt me again," he moaned in a shaky voice.

Hook stared at Peter, taken aback by this unexpected response.  He saw Peter's hand go to the scar, and felt icy fingers claw his gut.  He held up his hand in a peace gesture, and said calmly, "I'm not going to punish you, Peter.  You did nothing wrong."

"Yes I DID," Peter screamed.  "I liked hurting him.  I liked seeing his blood!  I couldn't stop because I was having FUN!  It was evil…I'm not evil…" Peter began to shake and his breath became faster as he began hyperventilating.  

Hook reached for the boy, and after a moment's hesitation, Peter came to him and took his hand.  He led the child to the bed and sat him on it.  "You're not evil, Peter.  If you were, you wouldn't feel like this.  You'd be celebrating right now.  You've been under much stress for a long time, and you acted out on it.  He made you angry, he insulted you and he wished to hurt you, so you had to defend yourself and your honor."

Peter forced himself to slow down, and breathe normally.  Hook kept his hand on the boy's arm, and thankfully remained mindful enough to not pat him on the back.  The contact steadied Peter, and he felt his ugly feelings slowly recede.  He still felt guilty and horrified at what had happened, but he could remember the incident more calmly now. 

"He didn't though," Peter said after a few minutes.  At Hook's quizzical look, he explained.  "I don't quite understand, but I do know he didn't make me _that_ angry.  I was mostly annoyed, but I was going to keep it at trading insults.  Then he said that last thing… everyone got upset.  I don't understand what those words meant.  'Coddle' yes, but not 'bugger'.  I felt you were angry.  You wanted to hurt him, to kill him.  So I got angry too.  I wanted to do the things you wanted to do – to make him scream and to make him hurt.  But I didn't want to kill him… even though you did.  But at the end, I was going to kill him anyway, and I was happy to do it.  I would have, if Mason hadn't stopped me."

Hook said nothing, lost in thought.  _I fed him my hate and rage, like I did before, when I shattered his mind.  But this time he seems to have channeled it, used it.  I could feel him while he fought, and I liked it.  He transformed my rage into joy, and sent it back to me.  Neither of us intended or realized it, but it makes sense._

"I'm a horrible person," Peter said after awhile. 

"No.  You saved his life, Peter.  You knew I wanted to kill him, and I was indeed about to do that very thing.  You didn't want him dead, and intervened.  You punished him for me, tempering my rage with your conscience.  You just become overwhelmed, and lost yourself for a moment.  I could feel you while you did it, and it made me happy.  I sent you my evil feelings, and you sent me good ones.  I'm still angry at Davis, but I no longer want to plunge my hook into his guts and rip them out slowly.  You didn't realize it Peter, but you did a good thing."

Peter looked Hook in the eye and spoke candidly.  "I'm afraid I'm turning into you.  I know that's what you wanted, for me to become like you.  You put a part of yourself inside me, and every day it feels more like a part of me.  It's dark and mean and cruel, and I don't want it."

"We traded, Peter," Hook said.  "I gave you a part of me, but I had to take a part of you too.  I can feel you too, and it pains me.  It's bright and clear, and shines a light on all the evil things I've ever done.  It has become the conscience I lost a long time ago, and since I acquired it, I have for the first time felt guilt for things I've done."

Peter nodded slowly.  "That's why I stopped fighting you, after you apologized.  I felt you meant it, so I decided to wait and see."  Hook stared at Peter, confused, so the boy recounted the night he had awakened in Hook's arms after his mind had healed, and heard the man express his guilt for hurting him.  

Hook nodded, "From now on, you had best let me know when you wake up from a nightmare.  I don't like the idea of you pretending to be asleep."

"Ay, sir," Peter said.

"Now, breakfast is cold, so I'll send for more.  While we wait, we will begin on your lessons.  I believe I promised you extra courses starting today."  Peter groaned in response, but did not argue.  The idea of studying did not seem so bad right now, it would get his mind off what had happened.

"The dog ran to the boy," Peter read slowly, eyes glued to his tablet.  "Wh – when he saw the boy thr- oww…"

"Throw, Peter.  The 'w' is silent," Hook corrected.

Peter frowned, but continued on, "…throw the… stick?" he looked up and Hook nodded.  "…the dog …" he stared at the next word for awhile, then looked at Hook with a frown.

"Quickly.  'Q' is always paired with a  'U' and together they make a 'kwa' sound.  The 'I' is short, the 'C' is silent, and 'L' and 'Y' make the sound 'lee'," Hook explained.  It was frustrating, he had already explained these same rules to Peter a dozen times, but the boy was deliberately averse to remembering them.

Peter, annoyed, set the tablet down.  "This is the stupidest thing I've ever seen!" he snapped.  "I still don't understand why you have words with letters you don't use, or make sounds they're not supposed to make!"

"Because that's the way it is done!  Better men than you and I developed our language, and bigger simpletons than you are able to read it!" Hook growled.  He felt his head begin to throb, as it always did when Peter irritated him too much.  This was becoming an old argument for them.  Ever since Peter had graduated to larger words, he had been resistant to spelling rules.  Now that Hook was starting him on sentences and he was running into the "stupid words" more often (sometimes several consecutively), he balked at them more.  _I think it may come to blows when I introduce him to the grammar rules and verb conjugation._

"If you're going to make a rule about how things work, then you should make it apply to everything!  Like 'i' before 'e' should be the rule, without the 'except after 'c'' and whatever else.  And words that are spelled the same should sound the same, but we have words like 'good' and 'food', and it's confusing," Peter continued, refusing to concede his point.

"I don't care what you think, boy.  That's how it is and that's how you will learn it!" Hook yelled, losing the last of his patience.  He forced himself to breathe and count.  When he felt calmer, he continued, "That's enough reading for now.  Put your tablet away."

"No!  I want to finish this," Peter objected.

"No?  I'm sorry, but did you just tell me _no?" Hook said calmly._

"I'm sorry, sir," Peter said quietly.  He didn't want to anger Hook, especially with yesterday's flogging giving him a reminder at every move of the price of defying the Captain.  "I just…" he started to say and stopped.

"Well?" Hook snapped, waiting for Peter to keep pushing the issue.

"I don't understand why you get so angry when I ask questions.  You wanted me to learn, even though I didn't.  Then you got me interested, so now I WANT to learn, but you don't want me to understand.  I think I could remember better if I understood why the rules were made," Peter finished and looked away, upset.  It was frustrating that Hook seemed to only want him to mimic and memorize, when Peter needed to understand.

Hook felt a bit of the frustration leave him as Peter made his point.  "You are doing well, Peter.  You are a quick learner, but you are quick to forget too," he explained calmly.  "We frustrate each other too easily, which makes it harder for you to learn and for me teach. But now I have a headache, again.  I can't answer your questions about this, because I simply do not know why the rules were made.  I only know how it must be done.  Believe me, if I knew how the written language evolved, I would pass on that knowledge to you.  I'm a pirate, not a schoolmarm.  I haven't the patience for teaching.  I never could tolerate children, and the fact that I've taught you this much leaves me astounded.  I don't mind your questions, but when you press, it upsets me."

Peter looked up.  "I'm sorry. I-," he paused in turmoil over what to say.  _Don't say that.  It's not true, it's a wrong way to feel.  You don't owe this bastard anything, the voice he now called Pan said.  _But it IS true.  I don't know why, but it is how I feel, _his Peter voice replied.  __It's weak, and you can't show Codfish any weakness, Pan retorted.  __But I want him to understand me, Peter wailed._

Hook heard Peter pause, and felt that the boy was struggling with something.  "What is it?"

"I want you to be proud of me," Peter blurted and flushed at the admission.  _Traitor,_ Pan thought to himself.

Hook stared at the boy, astonished.  He honestly hadn't known that Peter cared what Hook thought about him.  Peter had always made it clear that he cooperated because he had to.  _But he says he wants to please me?  He values my opinion of him?  _ Hook smiled at the boy and ruffled his hair.  He saw Peter's face darken and sighed.  "I am proud of you.  I really am.  Nothing in my enterprise worked out how I planned, but I prefer this state of affairs to the way they would have been if things had gone how I planned."

Peter still said nothing.  Inwardly he was chastising himself for yet again compromising himself to satisfy Hook.  And it was worse because a part of him eagerly wanted to do it.

"Now on to the matter of your punishment. I promised you extra lessons, so here they are.  You will begin combat practice today, and will spend an hour every day doing some form of it, just as the other men do in their free time.  You will practice sword play with Starkey or I, gunnery with Jukes, or target practice using guns and knives on your own, after Mullins gives you a lesson in shooting."

Peter stared at Hook, and suddenly he smiled as he beamed pure happiness.  "I can fight again?  With you?"

Hook frowned, "Not for real.  I don't quite trust you with a blade, despite today's incident.  So, we will use wooden swords."

"I don't care.  We can fight again!" Peter's eyes danced and he could barely sit still.

"Why are you so happy at the prospect of fighting me?" Hook asked suspiciously.

"Because I miss it.  We fought almost every day!  The most fun I can remember having was challenging you to a fight and winning; or matching wits with you, even though you won a fair share of those.  That's why I liked chess so much last night.  Playing anyone else would be boring.  I – I just don't want to fight again like I did today.  That wasn't a challenge, it was just cruel."  Peter's enthusiasm deflated quite a bit, but not enough to quell his happiness. 

Hook nodded, understanding.  "Now your other new lesson will be culture, and it will be at least an hour long every other day, with me, more if we have time.  You shall learn things such as etiquette, art, literature, and philosophy.  You will also spend time learning music, and I would like you to play for the men more often."

"I already know music," Peter protested.

"You know how to improvise and mimic.  I want you to read and write music."  He pulled Peter's pipes from a drawer.  He laid them on the desk and watched the boy closely.  Peter obviously wanted them, but for some reason he held back. 

"These are beautiful pipes.  I've never seen such craftsmanship.  It's like a melding of pan pipes and a flute.  Is that why your name is Pan?"

"I don't know," Peter replied staring at his instrument.  "I don't know what my real name is."

"I know your name.  Morgan.  I was told your mother's last name was Morgan, so that would be your true name – Peter Morgan.  I do not know how you acquired the name Pan."

"Peter Morgan," Peter repeated softly.  Suddenly his eyes hardened, and he glared at Hook, eyes filled with hate.  "Peter Morgan is dead.  I killed him.  And I will kill this new Peter you're trying to make.  There is only Peter Pan, and I will NOT permit us to be usurped by Peter Hook!" he screamed angrily in fey.  Suddenly he felt a blinding pain in his head.  He groaned and rubbed his temple with one hand, looking around in confusion.  "What?" he said as blood dripped from his nose.

Hook was stunned by this unexpected turn.  _Peter Morgan… Peter Pan… Peter HOOK?  Something is wrong.  "Peter?"_

"Make him go away," Peter moaned, "I could be happy here if he went away."

"Who?  Make who go away?"

"Pan…" Peter said and fainted.

Hook felt himself floating again as he looked for Peter's mind.  Something was wrong with the boy, something he had not seen before.  If Peter was referring to himself as two or even three different people, it could be a sign of madness.  Hook prayed it wasn't so, but he had to find out what was going on, and this was the only thing he knew to do.

After awhile, he could visualize Peter's mind.  It looked so much better than the last time he had seen it.  The nebulous mass was warm and bright, and he could see the swirls and eddies of activity.  He also saw the blue sphere that was the memory spell.  Surprisingly, the connections between the boy and himself had multiplied.  Several new ones, both from him and from Peter, had formed, and Hook felt heartened that Peter was bonding with him.  But he noticed an asymmetry, and looked closer.  There was an area of Peter's mind that no connections went to.  This area was of a slightly different hue, and it looked as if it had melded badly with the rest of Peter's mind when it had healed.

He sent a tendril to that area, but it burned him when he touched it.  He withdrew quickly, but came away with a disturbing sense.  He did not try probing further, fearing that he would do more damage to the boy.  Whatever this was, it hated him.  Peter's mind wasn't fully healed, apparently, and the stresses and turmoil was undoing the healing that had been done.  The bonding was making Peter more open to Hook, but this portion of his mind was harboring all the hate and anger at what had been done to him.  The captain feared the rift would continue and Peter's mind would break into two personalities… and this hateful one was not bound by the spell and was sworn to kill him.


	12. Riddles

Hook returned to himself and saw Peter looking at him.  "How did you do that?" Peter asked quietly.

"How did I do what?" Hook replied, releasing his grip on Peter's hand.

But Peter did not let go. "I saw you, in my mind.  You were a cloud, all red and black.  I knew it was you.  You touched me… I could see we were connected… was that the binding spell?  How did you get there?"  Peter did not seem upset, merely curious.

"Yes, that was the spell.  I do not like doing that, it puts you at risk; but next time there is a need, I will show you how to do it.  It isn't hard, but I can't explain it."

"Am I still broken?  Is that what happened?" Peter asked with a worried expression.

"You're not broken, but you haven't healed.  I've been pushing you too hard… I haven't given you enough time.  With the nightmares, the incident with Billy, and today with Davis… I'm sorry Peter.  How long has this been going on?"

"I've felt two ways about everything since you fixed me, but I thought it was just me not knowing what to do or think.  Part of me is ready to give up and follow you, but another part wants me to fight you to the death.  But this morning… when I was being cruel… that was the other thing.  I thought it was me, but it wasn't.  Now it's worse, it got a taste of being in control.  I can hear a voice, telling me to fight you, and that I'm wrong for wanting to give in."

Hook frowned.  He could understand how Peter could be torn about whether to give in or fight.  It was a life or death decision for him, life as a pirate or death as Pan, and in the same circumstances Hook would probably have difficulty deciding.  That Peter had to decide at all showed the strength of the spell, since it was contrary to the boy's nature to surrender and submit.  "How do you feel now?"

"Better.  I'm too tired to feel angry.  And when the other part of me took over again, it was too weak to stay long."

Hook helped the boy sit up, and put his hook on his shoulder.  "I don't know what to do, Peter.  I need you to tell me when something is wrong.  I lack patience, and when you act like your old self it quickens me to anger and I can be harsh.  But if you are really hurt, I will do everything I can to help you.  You're too important to me."

Peter nodded, and looked at the man's hand he was holding.  He saw an opal ring on Hook's finger.  "I never saw you wear jewelry before, Captain.  Where'd you get it?"

Hook looked at the ring.  He had put it on, hoping he could somehow cross the distance through force of will and reach the hag.  But it was dead now, and had helped him not at all.  "It was a gift from a friend."

Peter touched the stone curiously, fascinated by the flashing colors, so like fire beneath the surface.  When Peter's finger made contact, something completely unexpected happened.

_*Peter?*_ came the hag's thought, fraught with surprise and fear.  _*Hook?*_

_ I remember you! _ Peter's thought joined hers.  _ Shimi!  What are you doing in Hook's ring?_ he thought wonderingly.

_You can hear?_ Hook's thought blared across them both.  _Why didn't you answer me before!_

_*Go away!  Peter's too strong!  You are giving me a headache, boy!*_

_As if I care,_ Peter sneered, disdain tingeing the thought.  _You've hurt me worse.  You're the one that helped Hook, aren't you.  You hurt me again, you betrayed me!  I promise you I will kill you when I get back._

_*Try it brat!  Neverland doesn't need you anymore - *_

_Both of you shut UP!  _Hook roared, and both elf and boy quieted.  _Shimi, he sent gentler, __why can you hear me now?_

_*Peter may be cut off, but he's not powerless.  His magic is reinforcing the ring, so now it is strong enough to cross the distance to reach me*_

_He needs your help, _Hook told Shimi what had happened and what he had seen.  Peter also heard, and was afraid of the image of how his mind looked.

But Shimi laughed derisively.  _*I told you that you had made things worse.  I am amazed that he's healed this well, but it would have been beyond hope for him to be fixed completely.  If he weren't with you, he probably would have.  Hate broke him before – your hate for him.  Hate keeps him from healing now – his hate for you.  He's shuffled it all off to a dark corner of his mind, he _so_ wants to belong.  He's also put everything fey about himself there, because it keeps him from being like everyone else.  Now his magic and his ill feelings are joining forces and are rifting his mind again.  He's Peter and he's Pan.*_

Peter felt dread growing within him, fear that he would break again.  Even that other part of him (and it was still him, not someone else, not yet) quailed at the thought that his mind would shatter.  Neither part of him wanted to die and both would do anything not to return to the nothingness.  

Hook also felt dread.  _And what if the rift continues?_

_*He'll become two boys in one body.  One of them will obey you, the other will fight you.  But don't worry, if things continue as they are now, the child will be dead before Pan is strong enough to take over.*_

_What do you mean, I'll be dead?  _Peter thought in panic, Hook echoing his question fearfully.

_*Do you really want to know?_ She asked, a sly purr tingeing her thought.

_Yes,_ Peter demanded.

Hook found himself suddenly being used as a conduit.  Shimi couldn't reach Peter's mind directly, since the ring was on _his finger Hook was the nexus.  There came a series of images and emotions, thoughts and memories tearing though his mind.  It was sudden, intense, and just as quickly it was over; Hook reeled at the attack._

_You BITCH!_ Pan swore and broke the contact.

Hook was vaguely aware that the floor was coming towards him as he fell from the side of the bed.  Everything was black before it reached him.

Peter Pan sat on the bed and stared at the man on the floor.  Shimi, apparently in a fit of spite, had opened a door.  It wouldn't remain so for long.  Right now, he could undo everything.  He could rip out the earring and break the spell.  It would hurt, though, and he wasn't even thinking about his ear.  The ties that bound him to Hook would break, and every fairy in the realm would be aware that Peter was alive.  Neverland itself would find him, and he would return to the weave of its embrace.  

Many things gave him pause.  Shimi had also opened his memory spell… he remembered everything, but in a disassociated way.  He could remember with perfect clarity everything he had done and been through on the island.  But he didn't feel much emotion over it.  She had done it that way to save his sanity, so that he wouldn't become overwhelmed.  Looking back over his past, he suddenly felt very tired.  _I miss everyone, and for them I would return… but Neverland itself holds little for me.  Besides, I have to think of Nibs._  

If Peter broke the spell, he and Nibs would have to fight.  There could only be one heart to Neverland, and it would either be Nibs or himself.  Peter would easily overcome and replace Nibs in the weave, which would be good for _him_.  But if he did that, then Nibs would go through what he had gone through when Neverland had been ripped from him.  And there would be no-one there to replace it, as Hook had been there for him.  If he broke the spell but did not replace Nibs, he would once again feel that painful void within himself.  He would not – _could not – go through that again.  He'd rather die._

Likewise, regardless of what he did with Nibs, Hook would die.  That realization concerned him more than he would have thought it would.  If the shock of the loss didn't outright kill him, he would either go insane or lose the will to live.  The void Peter would leave would destroy the Captain.  Unlike Peter (through his birthright) and Nibs (through his brotherhood with Peter), Hook had no magic to cushion the severing. 

_I hate him… but I love him, too.  He's changed, he's not the same evil pirate I used to fight.  I can see he has some good in him; he hides it believing it's weak.  If I thought he could return my love, I could forgive him everything that he's done to me.  If I decide to go back, I will kill him before I do it, so he doesn't suffer._

Right now, he was one person.  Peter and Pan merged together so that he was his old self.  And that old self felt pity and love for Captain Hook, even if it was tempered with anger and hate.  But this wouldn't last long.  Shimi was giving him the time to decide what he wanted to do, but soon the memory spell would resume and he would go back to the way he was before, unless he broke the binding spell.  A return to Neverland would heal him of everything that was wrong with him.  He saw that his magic was failing, and when it did he would die.  

Peter couldn't continue indefinitely in his limbo of emotions, he didn't have the strength for two minds.  He wanted…no needed… Hook to love him.  He needed the love of a parent.  If he received it, Peter and maybe even Pan would be able to let go and Peter could live happily with the pirates.  But if Hook could not or would not reciprocate, Pan would eventually take over and end the charade himself, most likely killing both of them in the process.  Pan would rather see Peter dead than let him live his life in pain and sadness.  Pan would kill him if he betrayed himself- like he had done when he thought he had murdered Billy.  But before Pan could react, Peter had to choose.

_Why couldn't I have been normal?  Neverland has broken me and patched me up far more than Hook could achieve in a lifetime.  I'm tired of being used, whether by man or fairy.  I just want peace and happiness.  Which ones will hurt me less, the fey or the pirates?_  Love/hate, stay/go, forgiveness/vengeance, all these presented their arguments.  

_For Nibs I will not go back to Neverland, not this way.  Perhaps I could find a way someday to go back without removing the spell.  But I can't stay here.  I can't endure a life without love and hope.  But if I kill myself, I kill Hook too._

He got out of bed and sat on the floor.  Hook lay on his back, asleep.  Peter touched the man's cheek, then lifted Hook's head so that he could slide under it and rest it on his lap.  He smiled as he remembered their positions being reversed, and all of the times Hook had done this simple thing to comfort him.  He thought of the scar on his chest and the pain from the breaking; he looked at the claw, remembering Hook's scream of pain and loss when Peter had cut off the hand that used to be there.

"We keep hurting each other, Codfish.  We should stop.  I've decided what I want, but I don't know if I can trust you to make it happen.  Please don't hurt me again."  And with those words, Peter decided and felt the door close again, forever.

He felt panic rising, and cold fear filled his gut.  Most of the memories and revelations he had had were gone again, and he was like he was before.  He knew he had had the chance to go home.  He knew he had remembered everything.  He didn't know why he didn't take it, why he had chosen to stay.  But he knew this much:  he had considered his options and chosen to stay of his own free will.  _I don't understand, but I have to trust myself and see it through now._  Now he had forgotten the trick of breaking the spell and escaping, and it had been something simple.  He remembered he had stayed for Hook, and he remembered what he needed from the man, but he didn't know why he chose the pirate captain over his friends.  And even that knowledge was fading from him.  Soon, he would forget everything that had just happened.

He sat on the floor and hummed.  Eventually, it became a song.  It was a song of loss, but also of hope and fear of the future.  Hook had awakened when Peter first spoke, and had listened to the boy's words.  He heard as he floated in a thick fog, without understanding, but he listened and his senses coalesced into reasonable thought. 

For you I will stay,

And now I do pray

That you will not betray me.

Upon you I must 

Depend and entrust

My heart, my life on the sea.

I long and I pine

For what once was mine:

Love, Joy, my Home that you took.

I love and I hate

You.  Now I await

For life or death from you, Hook.

Hook wanted to open his eyes and say something, to ask Peter what he meant, but he realized he couldn't move.  He fought down the fear and tried harder.  He felt Peter's hand, cool and soft on his weather-beaten face.

"Calm down.  I know you're awake.  Shimi made you go to sleep, so she could get to me.  She pushed you too hard.  You really shouldn't be awake right now.  Your body is still asleep but if you give it time it will wake up too.  I'll keep you company."  Peter talked for a long time, telling stories.  He had felt the man's fear and he knew to keep him distracted.  So he told his stories and recounted a few adventures (some of which involved Hook).  He sang some fey songs, knowing Hook liked them.  After awhile, he became a bit hoarse, and started to worry about why Hook was still down.  Finally, he got an idea.

Gently, he eased Hook's head out of this lap and crawled to where the man's hand lay.  _I don't want to talk to her again, but I have to._  He pulled the ring from the man's finger and placed it on his thumb.  It was too large, but as he watched it shrank to his own size to fit perfectly.

_*Neverland isn't shaking and your friend isn't screaming, so I take it you chose to stay?*_

_If you plotted with Hook to get rid of me, then why did you give me the chance to escape?_

_*I wanted you gone, but I swore long ago I would not hurt you again.  If that man had done things as he should have, you and he would have forgiven each other and accepted each other.  I knew he was willful, and I had doubts about trusting him, but I helped him anyway.  I did not realize he could seize control of the spell and warp it to his own designs.  He hurt you.  He's still hurting you.  He's a clumsy oaf when it comes to matters of the heart.  You suffer, and it's because of me.  I wanted to give you a way out, if your life was unbearable.  But I wanted you to remember your past and know the consequences of whatever action you decided to take.*_

_So I decided to stay, because I thought it would be better here than Neverland?_

_*I don't know why you stayed, but I can guess.*_

_Tell me._

_*No.  I've helped you and jeopardized my own life doing it.  Do you have any idea what they will do to me if you come back and I'm found out?  I've satisfied my vow, now any suffering you endure will be because of you and that man.*_

_He won't wake up.  Help me wake him up._

_*Time heals all things, even as time kills all things.  He will awake in time.  Try playing for him, he loves your music.  It makes him happy.  Now go away and leave me alone.  I'll help you no more, brat.*_

_Shimi?_

_*What!*_

_Why do you hate me?_

Silence was all he received.  _I understand why Hook hates me.  Did I do something to you?  Why did you try to kill me before?  Why did you give me to my enemy?_

_*I don't hate you.  I tried to kill you because you were a threat to Neverland.  I foresaw that you could destroy it and all of us too.  I did like you, but you had to go.  Your mother I do hate.  She took my love away, and now only hate remains for me.  I sent you away to end the threat you pose and to hurt Kaylee.  I made her believe her son is dead.  I never hated you.  You were just misfortunate enough to have been born in the fairy realm.  Now leave.*_

_Wait!_ Peter called, but Shimi had cut off contact.

Peter removed the ring.  _My mother?  I thought she was dead.  I KNOW she's dead, so why do this to me to hurt her?_  

Peter shook his head and went to the desk.  He put the ring on it and picked up his pipes.  Holding them, he almost felt complete.  He smiled, wondering why he had been afraid of them before.  Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

"Go away!  I want no visitors right now," Peter called in Hook's voice.  For some reason, he knew that the ship should not know the Captain was disabled.  After this morning, he had no faith that the new crewmen wouldn't mutiny for their imprisoned shipmate, or seek retribution against the boy himself.  And there were twice as many of the new men as there were of Hook's old crew.

"Cap'n Hook, sir," came Smee's voice through the door.  "The men is wonderin' when yer gonna decide what ta do with Mr. Davis."

"I haven't decided yet, Smee.  Pan and I are having an important discussion, and the sooner it's done, the sooner I can deal with that ugly lout."  Peter had a thought, "Smee!  Send Mason in.  No one else is to disturb me."

"Ay, Cap'n!"  A few minutes later, Mason knocked.

"Enter!" Peter barked in Hook's voice.

Mason came in and stopped in confusion.  He saw Peter sitting on his cot, but Hook was nowhere to be seen.

"Close the door!  Were you raised in a barn?" came Hook's command, but Mason saw that it was the boy that spoke.

He shut the door and frowned, "Peter, I don't know what yer playin' at…"

"Hush, Mason, and help me," Peter said in his own voice.  "Captain Hook's been playing with magic again, and it's knocked him out," he explained, pointing to the floor between the two beds.

Mason walked around the end of the bed and saw Hook lying unconscious on the floor.  "Is he…"

"No.  He'll wake up, I just don't know when.  He can hear us and feel but he can't move or speak.  He's fairly upset.  I need you to put him on the bed so he can be comfortable.  He's too big for me."

Mason didn't ask how the boy knew Hook could hear or that he was upset.  When it came to matters between these two, it was best to just nod and keep going.  In a couple of minutes, Hook was in his own bed, boots off and body under the covers.

"I'll tell the men the Cap'n's in a foul temper and that he's upset at ya.  That'll explain why neither of ya show and get ya outta yer duties fer now.  The old crew would understand, but the new guys can't be trusted yet.  They might think ya did somethin' and try to attack ya.  I don't wanna have ta fight 'em."

"You'd fight for me?" Peter mused.

"'Course we would.  Yer a shipmate, and shipmates watch each other's backs," Mason replied, shocked.  "Ye've still got a lot to learn, lad."

"Thank you," Peter said sincerely, "that means a lot to me."

"I'll bring lunch if yer still in here come noon," Mason said and left quietly.

Peter sat on the bed beside the man, took a deep breath, and began to play.  He played for a long time, and lost himself to the melodies.  After a few hours, Mason brought in lunch.  He ate and continued entertaining Hook.  The Captain woke and slept at intervals, and when he slept Peter either amused himself or took a nap.  He began to wonder if Hook was ever going to awaken.

Much later, Hook awoke with a start.  _I'm free!  I can move!  He opened his eyes and looked around.  It seemed to be late afternoon or early morning.  He became aware of a warm lump at his side and frowned as he realized it was Peter.  He knew what the boy had done for him while he was paralyzed – talking, playing, impersonating him to keep the crew at ease, even giving him water from time to time – and he appreciated it.  But he had also been acutely aware of Peter during that time, and knew something was changed.  He had also been thinking a lot about the split in Peter's mind, and it worried him.  He had pondered on Peter's words from when he had awaked to the paralysis:  "I've decided what I want, but I don't know if I can trust you to make it happen… For you I will stay… I love and I hate you."_

_I don't believe I can trust him, especially now that I know there's a thing in his mind that's waiting for a chance to kill me.  Peter will always hate me and I deserve it.  So why does he act like he doesn't?  I have no idea what he's doing. I have to be more careful, or he will destroy me._  He vowed to never let his guard down and keep a safer distance from the dangerous child.

He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb the boy too much.  He got up and went to the tray on the desk.  He was thirsty and his stomach growled, so he devoured the food that waited there and drank every drop of water.  He sighed when he was done and felt much better.  _How can something so small be so dangerous? Hook mused as he watched Peter sleep.  He noted the boy's pale face and bruised-looking eyes.  Peter was thinner, too, and Hook felt sudden anxiety for his boy's health.  __Too much stress.  He's not doing well on this ship, but he's trying.  Every time he gets a foothold, he gets knocked back down._

"Peter," he called and reached to shake the boy.  Peter's eyes opened and he jerked back, disoriented and startled.  He fell over the edge of the bed and hit the floor with a thud.

"Ow!" he yelled as his sore back connected with the wood.  He sat up, awake and aware now, and looked at Hook.  "You scared me!"

"You should be scared.  I am the most feared pirate in the world.  You are merely a boy, my prisoner and servant," Hook growled.

Peter's sheepish grin evaporated and he looked deeply hurt.  "I…" Peter couldn't speak, he felt as if he had been slapped.  Tears welled up and he tried to choke them back.

Hook knew he had erred.  He felt Peter's pain and disappointment.  He didn't know why Peter reacted like that, but he knew the boy had taken him seriously.  He held out his arms and said soothingly, "I was joking, Peter.  You haven't been a prisoner since I fixed the spell.  You've never feared me, and I don't want you to start now.  I want your respect, not your fear.  Fear is for those dogs outside.  I have better plans for you, Peter, and fear isn't a part of them, not anymore."

Peter relaxed a bit as it sunk in that Hook had been teasing.  "Please don't joke like that.  However you feel about me, I have to believe I'm more than merely your cabin-boy."  

"Of course you are more than my cabin-boy.  You are Peter Pan, the boy I've fought for years.  You are my treasure, my prized possession.  You are more important to me than any other person in the world."  He felt awkward; he had never been good at being honest with his feelings, not even to himself.  He saw the look on Peter's face and knew he wasn't helping things.  He quit talking and returned the boy's stare, afraid he'd say something wrong.

_I chose wrong, and I'm stuck here again.  I missed my last chance.   What was I thinking?  This is _Captain Hook_.  He doesn't even love himself, and he'll always hate me.  Was remembering my life in Neverland so horrible that I preferred this?  Suddenly he was crying, shaking with the force of it as he felt the hopelessness his future promised._

"Now what did I do?" Hook whispered, bewildered.  He walked to Peter and picked him up.  He hugged him close, not sure of what else to do or say.  "I'm sorry," was all he could manage.

Peter felt comforted by the embrace, the contact giving him a sense of Hook.  He realized Hook didn't hate him, but he didn't know what the man DID feel… everything was too mixed up.  The day had been too much for the boy – the fight, Shimi, losing his chance to leave, worry about the Captain – all had taken their toll.  He gripped Hook back and cried himself out.  When he calmed, he could speak again.  "I was worried.  I knew you'd wake up, but I didn't know when.  If you had still been asleep when I woke up, I was going to tell Mr. Smee so he could help me watch you."

"Thank you.  You did the right thing by not telling everyone.  I heard you impersonate me.  I also heard you play your pipes."

"Shimi said it would make you happy."

"Shimi… what did that hag do?"

"She put you out so she could get to me."

Hook pulled back and looked at Peter closely.  "Did she hurt you?"

Peter shook his head, "No, she showed me things and made me remember things…"

"What things?" Hook asked anxiously.  _If he remembered that the binding spell is contained in the earring, then he may remove it and leave me._

"I don't remember most of it… she took it all away again.  But I do understand what is happening in my mind.  I understand why I split and I can guess what might happen."

"Explain it to me then," Hook said sternly.  "If there is a chance that you may try to kill me, I want to know so I can watch for it."

Peter decided not to tell Hook that he had had a chance to break the spell.  He didn't remember why he had chosen, and it would just raise more questions he couldn't answer.  "I'm waiting to see what happens right now.  I want to belong more than I hate you.  So I'm Peter right now, Pan is just whispers and bad feelings.  But if life here becomes too horrible…" Peter hesitated, then plowed on.  "I'll become just Pan.  If he decides I'm being hurt too much and my life is too miserable, he will kill me – put me out of my misery I guess.  He might kill you first, for revenge… it depends on if I can forgive you or not."

"Then I'll be a marked man.  For everything we've done to one another, it will be a miracle for either of us to find forgiveness.  What if you are happy here?"

"If I can be happy here and accept this as my life, the rift might go away again, or at the least I'll never become Pan, I'll stay Peter forever."

Hook frowned and thought for awhile.  "You are my crewman.  I will not coddle or cater to you just to keep you happy.  You'd become spoiled and grow to be useless and weak.  But you ARE my boy, and in a way I've adopted you.  Therefore I am responsible for your well-being.  If you need anything, I'll provide it.  If you're afraid, I'll protect you.  If you're hurt, I'll comfort you."  _And if you continue to waste away, I'll release you,_ he thought.  He wasn't going to say it, or the boy might decide to use it as a way to get home.  _But if you try this life and you just can't live away from there… I'd rather let you go than watch you die._

Hook ruffled Peter's hair and for once the boy didn't seem to mind.  "Have you eaten?  Doesn't matter, you need to eat more.  You are too thin; I don't want you losing your strength.  I'll put in an appearance on deck while you go to the galley and get some food.  We've lost the day, so tonight we'll play chess or maybe read a story.  No duty and no lessons for the remainder of the day."

Peter smiled, _he said he adopted me.  He didn't understand why that made him happy, but it did.  He felt his affection for the man grow, and the voice of resistance got that much weaker.  Feeling hopeful and content, he went to the kitchen to do Hook's bidding._


	13. Answers

The crew watched the two fighters surreptitiously.  They were supposed to concentrate on their duties, but it was truly breathtaking to watch the man and boy spar.  It reminded the old crew of times in Neverland, but now it wasn't for keeps.  The new crew was just spellbound.  Davis, chained at the other side of the ship, looked up from his swabbing and scowled, hating both the combatants, especially the boy.

The day after Pan's and Davis's fight, Hook had passed judgment on the man.  Everyone had expected something drastic – a keel-hauling or a hanging – but Davis had gotten off light in their estimation.  He got two dozen lashes, the duties that had been Peter's extras, and confinement for the duration of his sentence, which was three weeks.  Hook made it clear that Peter had spoken for the man, and had thereby spared him a violent death.  This tidbit seemed to make Davis even angrier.  

Hook had dedicated a week to Peter's training.  Mornings and evenings still contained reading and math lessons, but a good portion of the day was devoted to Peter's combat training, with light duty (lookout, manning the wheel, dish duty, etc) for the remainder.  Peter was in poor health, and Hook didn't want the boy tiring himself too much.  

Hook had discovered in their first combat session how far back the boy had been set.  He was weaker and slower than he once was, due to his failing health.  And everyone who looked at the child could see he was waning … wilting, as Starkey remarked at one point.  But the relaxation of his schedule and the extra time in the sun seemed to have revitalized him somewhat, and Hook felt heartened by the boy's progress.  Peter was woefully out of practice, and was now playing catch-up:  regaining his strength and flexibility by practicing with Hook and Starkey.

Peter loved sword fighting, and now a week into it, he seemed to be back to his old abilities.  He was having a difficult time compensating for his inability to fly, but was quickly learning new ways to dodge and avoid direct hits.  He and Hook could now trade blow for blow, where the first day he was on his back as soon as they started.  Peter's assets were his speed and agility, and being a small target helped.  Hook had his strength, experience, and his willingness to fight dirty.  Today, Peter was actually doing better than holding his own.  A few times he had pressed an attack on Hook, but he didn't have the stamina to hold the offensive position long.  

"Ha-HA!" Peter cried, and for the first time in months he laughed his old triumphant laugh.  He had managed to counter a strike and twisted his wooden sword in such a way that he actually knocked Hook's wooden sword from his grasp.  In another swipe and twist, he parried Hook's claw swipe (the point of the hook had a cork on it, to prevent an accident), and came up against the man with his fake dagger pressed to Hook's gut.

"Gotcha Codfish!" he cried, smiling happily.

Hook smirked and twisted his hook, wrenching Peter's sword painfully from his grasp.  At the same time, he kicked the boy square in the stomach and knocked him to the ground.  He knelt by Peter's side and held his claw to the boy's throat.  "Don't get cocky with me, boy," he growled.

"You… cheated," Peter gasped, holding his stomach.  The kick hadn't hurt much, but it had winded him.

"You keep forgetting about feet.  You are earthbound now, and you have to be aware of ALL your opponent's appendages.  Pirates fight dirty, and if one wants to kill you, he will stop at nothing to get you down.  If you want to survive in a battle, you have to watch out, and you cannot hesitate to do what it takes to win."  He noted the boy's gasps and his face softened.  "Are you okay?"

Peter nodded and sat up.  He was angry with Hook for cheating, regardless of his excuse.  But he was angrier at himself for losing again.  "I used to always win.  Now I can't do anything right.  I'm useless," he spat bitterly.

Hook hauled the boy up and gave him back his sword.  "Don't feel sorry for yourself.  You've come a long way, and your improvement is remarkable.  There isn't a man on this ship that could survive what you have and recover this fast."

Peter's eyes flashed and his face hardened.  "We aren't recovering, Codfish, and we certainly haven't survived.  We're merely dying more slowly."

Hook frowned in confusion and suddenly Pan attacked.  The attack was blurring, wild and reckless… and it was brilliant.  Hook found himself completely on the defensive, barely parrying or dodging the blows.  He couldn't even wonder what was going on, he was too busy protecting himself.  After awhile, the strikes slowed, falling into a saner rhythm as Pan tired, and Hook realized the boy was mocking him.

"Codfish, what's wrong?  Can't defeat a sick, hurt, dying orphan?  Kick him now, you bully!  Good thing we fight with splinters, else I'd have your guts for garters right now!"  Pan laughed haughtily, the old cocky look in his eyes and a tight, angry smile on his lips.  

Hook flushed and felt hot anger well up within him.  "You insolent brat!  Do you want me to kill you?  How many times must I put you in your place before you learn to stay?"

The boy stopped and stood on guard, glaring with hate filled eyes.  "And what place would you put him in your heart?  The only place Peter is going right now is the grave.  If you don't solve his riddle soon, I'll end your game.  We hurt, and you let it continue.  I won't allow us to suffer and grow up as your slave."

"You won't allow… Pan," Hook growled as he realized which aspect was speaking to him.

Pan laughed again.  "You're not stupid, evidently.  I guess that means you're not even trying to find the answer.  If you don't care enough to even try, I'll kill us right now."

"Find what answer?"

"Peter's song, the one he sang when we decided, while you lay paralyzed.  Answer the riddle and I'll tell you how to save our life."

"What game are you playing?  Why won't you let him be?"

"Our slow death has nothing to do with me.  What happens to a wild bird when you cage it?  I merely know what treatment we need, to revitalize us while we endure your prison so that we do not fade away and die; which will be soon if a miracle doesn't occur.  Tick-tock, Codfish, you're running out of time!"  While he spoke, the boy's nose again began to bleed freely.  Peter blinked and shook his head.  He groaned at the intense headache as he came back to himself and fell to his knees.

"Peter?" Hook asked hopefully.

Peter was overwhelmed with dizziness and nausea and threw up.  "Captain," he wailed as the dry heaves wracked him, "help me."

Hook ran to him and picked him up.  He carried Peter to the galley as the crew watched in concern.  They had heard Pan's speech too, and were baffled.  Jukes and Mullins exchanged quick glances, and the man nodded.  Billy nodded back and dashed down below, following the Captain and his friend.

Hook sat Peter on the table and pressed a handkerchief to his nose.  Peter was staring at him, eyes unfocused and muttering.  "Peter?  What's wrong?" Hook asked.

"Head hurts.  Dizzy.  Did you hit me?" he moaned and lay back onto the table.  He curled up on his side and nursed his nose.

"I didn't hit you.  Pan took over again, and you got a nose-bleed when he did," Hook answered gently.

"Cap'n?  Is Peter all right?" Jukes asked tentatively.  He was holding a bowl of hot water and a towel.  Cookson stood next to him with a bowl of soup and a mug of rum.

"I don't know," Hook answered truthfully, "set those there."

"If boy needs medicine, I cook some up for him," Cookson offered.  "He eat good, but he look like he starvink."  The cook left them alone, muttering about boys being too thin.

Jukes stood staring, feeling awkward, until Hook motioned for him to sit.  Billy took a seat so that Peter was facing him, and put his hand on the boy's arm.  He had recognized the reference to Pan as a separate entity.  He and Peter talked to each other, and Peter had told him about everything he remembered from the day they discovered the split.  But for the past week, Peter had not heard a peep from his other half, and had believed that when Shimi touched his memory spell the other part of him had gone away.  Peter often told him things he never told anyone else, and Jukes the same to Peter, and they kept each other sworn to secrecy.  But if Peter was seriously ill, Billy wasn't going to keep quiet.

"We brought some soup, since he threw up again.  He needs to hold down _something today," Billy explained._

"BILLY!" Peter hissed, but Hook silenced him.

"What do you mean, 'he threw up again'?" Hook demanded.

"I wasn't supposed to say, but Peter promised to tell you.  I caught him being sick twice, once yesterday after lunch, and again today after breakfast."

"Peter?  How often have you been vomiting?" Hook growled, angry the boy had been quiet about this.

Peter sighed and removed the bloody handkerchief.  "Two days.  I got sick after breakfast and lunch, but I only ate a little dinner and was fine.  And now twice today.  I'm hungry, but I keep getting dizzy after I eat and I throw up."

"And you didn't tell me?" Hook asked, livid.

"I didn't want to upset you…" Peter began.

"I AM THE CAPTAIN OF THIS SHIP!" Hook exploded.  "I have to know when my men are injured or ill.  If my crew's strength is compromised, I have to know!  If you are ill, I can make allowances for you, but not if I don't know!  I TOLD you to let me know when something was WRONG!" 

Peter yelped and curled up tighter, hands clutching his ears and eyes squeezed shut as Hook's bellows sent shards of pain through his head.  Hook didn't notice the child's distress, and continued swearing and yelling.  He was beyond angry and disappointed that Peter would keep secrets from him.

"Cap'n!" Billy called, seeing that Hook was hurting Peter.

"AND YOU!" Hook rounded on him, "You kept it from me too!  I…"

It was too much, and Peter screamed.  Hook stopped suddenly, realizing what he was doing.  "Peter?  God, I'm sorry," he whispered as he went to see to the boy.

Billy was already there, and he waved Hook away.  He himself was angry now, and gave no consideration to his own danger as he confronted the captain.  "Why can't you stop being selfish for once and think about Peter?  You're so wrapped up in being the dreaded Captain Hook, master of ship and crew, you can't see what's right in front of your face.  And what's worse is it's killing Peter.  Peter needs you, not a Captain, and if you can't figure out the rest, you don't deserve him!"

Hook's first impulse was to strike the insolent boy down for daring to speak to him like that.  He fought it away, and his ire faded as Billy's words sunk in.  He had fooled himself into thinking Peter was recovering.  Peter had tried hard to keep up the pretense by covering up his nausea and pushing himself in training.  The boy hadn't had a nightmare in over a week.  Hook had thought it was a positive sign, but now he wondered if Peter was too exhausted to dream at all.  Once again, he felt he needed to do or say something here, and he floundered, lost.  

"He needs rest," he said weakly.

"He needs more than that.  That thing is going to either kill him or let him waste away if you don't answer whatever riddle he spoke of.  Why don't you go figure it out and I'll take care of Peter.  He'll recover faster if you're not here."

_I don't want to go, I want to make sure he's alright.  But through action or inaction, I keep harming him._  Finally, Hook nodded, "For once, Jukes, you are correct.  If it weren't for the fact that you care about Peter, I would beat you senseless for speaking to me like that.  I'll check on Peter later."  He went above to go to his cabin and think.

Billy sighed, realizing how that could have gone, if the old Captain Hook had been standing there.  He wet the towel in the warm water and carefully cleaned Peter's face.  He smiled when his friend opened his eyes.  "Hey," he whispered.

"Hi," Peter whispered back.  "I'm hungry."

"Well, I have some of Corzone's broth.  It should sit on your stomach if you take it slow."  He helped Peter up and into a seat.  Peter ate the soup and didn't get sick afterwards.  While he ate, they talked about other things, happy things – pretending that, for the moment, nothing was wrong.

Peter awoke groggily, tired beyond belief.  He saw Hook bending over him, and heard his name being called.  He felt an odd detachment, and was slightly bemused by the feeling.  "Cap'n… waz wong?"

"Peter, you smell like rum.  Have you been drinking?"  Hook growled softly.  

"Yep," the boy said with a slight smile.  "Is bedder'n wiskey, tase bedder.  Head don hurt now."

Hook sighed, frustrated.  _I'm going to beat Jukes._  Peter lay in one of the hammocks in the common room, Jukes was in the one above him.  Hook had gone to his cabin and done some serious thinking, writing down every piece of relevant information he could think of, some clue as to what he was supposed to do.  But he needed one important piece of information:  Peter's song.  He only remembered snatches of it and the tune, but if it was a riddle, he needed it in his entirety.  He had given Peter some space for several hours, but he felt that time was running out and couldn't wait any longer for the boy to return.  

He stood and looked at Jukes, who was fast asleep.  He rudely shook the gunner until the boy woke up.  Fortunately for him, Billy had not been drinking, and once he was awake, he looked at Hook with alert eyes. 

"Yes, Cap'n?" he asked fearfully, wondering if he was about to get a delayed punishment for standing up to the Captain.

"You got Peter drunk?" Hook growled. 

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize it would hit him so hard or so fast.  I don't drink myself, and the other men drink a lot more than that, sir.  I just thought a bit would relax him and help his headache.  It was only half of the mug, and it was mixed in with some water."

"I see.  Go to sleep, I'm taking Peter back to his bed.  I need to sober him up and talk to him." 

"Ay, sir.  Cookson has a good remedy, but I hear it tastes something awful.  'Course with Peter's stomach it might not be worth the risk."

"I'll let time cure him, Jukes, but I'll keep Cookson's remedy in mind."  Hook plucked Peter from the hammock – _He's always been light, but dear God he weighs nothing right now – and carried him to their room._

Peter had dozed off again, so Hook sat him in a chair and prodded him awake.  When he got the boy's attention and saw some kind of awareness in his eyes, he spoke.  

"Peter, I need you to tell me something.  When I was paralyzed, you sang a song to me.  I don't remember much of it. I want you to sing it for me again."

"A song?" Peter said blearily, "I don 'member."

"You have to," Hook prodded.  He hummed the tune to the boy, singing the phrases that he remembered.

Peter listened, and by the end of the tune was singing along softly, filling in some of the missing verses.  Hook began humming the tune again, and Peter started from the beginning, singing the song in its entirety.  Frantically, Hook wrote the song down while he had it in his mind and sang it back to the boy.  Peter laughed, delighted that Hook was actually singing, and made mild corrections to the lyrics.

"I don't understand.  What does it mean?" Hook mused.

"You haf ta give it back," Peter muttered, drifting off to sleep again.

"Give what back!"  Hook grabbed Peter and shook him roughly to re-awaken him.

"Stop," Peter moaned, "hurtin' me."

Hook let go.  "I'm sorry, Peter.  But this is important.  I don't want to lose you.  What do I have to give back?"

"I don' know… Pan knows…he don' talk ta me no-more… too tired" Peter said as he fell back into slumber.

_Give it back?  Give Neverland back?_  He stared at the words on the paper, but that answer didn't seem to fit.  "I love and I hate you" stood out somehow, and he looked at Peter thoughtfully.  _I expect him to hate me.  I know he's grown more comfortable around me, more … _Hook considered the correct word, _affectionate?  Yes.  How did I not see that.  Could he actually love me?  That's not possible.  No children love me.  No one at all loves me.  Only Mother did, and she's dead.  I had believed Cecilia did, but she left me._

The thought that Peter Pan loved him frightened more than anything else ever had.  Love was something he had always denied himself, pushed it away as a weakness.  Love of gold, love of music, love of material things was permitted; it gave you focus and drive.  But people would always betray you or leave you, and then your love became bitter ashes.

_No, he doesn't love me.  I've become soft to even consider it.  It's laughable.  There is another answer here, but regardless, I may end up giving him back to Neverland… consequences be damned._

He sat up for awhile longer, but found himself more and more often staring at the boy.  Finally, he realized he was tired and made ready for bed.  As he was about to turn in, Peter began to cry in a nightmare.

_Damn it! _ Hook thought, but went to pick up the boy.  But Peter resisted, flailing and fighting him whenever he reached out.  

"Codfish!... liar… hurt me… please… can't breathe… let me go… kill me!" Peter cried out.  Other words passed his lips, but they were a garbled mix of human and fey languages, and Hook couldn't make them out.  

Hook sat by helplessly and watched the boy thrash about as the dream intensified.  It hurt him to see the pain etched on Peter's sleeping face, and he longed to wipe it away.  _I care about him so much.  I'm more than fond of him.  I haven't felt love for so long I don't remember what it was like, but I think that I do love him.  Hook was afraid at this realization - afraid of what it meant, and afraid of what it would do to him if Peter never returned his love.  He remembered Cecilia, and how it had torn him apart when he realized he had lost her forever… all because she had not loved him enough to accept him for who he was._

Peter gasped and awoke with a start.  He looked squarely at Hook and stated, "I would give my life to get off of this ship.  This ship is killing me."  Before Hook could respond, his eyes slid shut and he was out again, this time in a dreamless sleep.  After ensuring that the boy was resting well, Hook wearily climbed into bed and got what sleep he could.

When Peter awoke the next morning, he was more than a little alarmed to see that Hook was already up and on deck.  He got up and dressed quickly, ignoring the mild dizziness.  He just _knew he was going to be in trouble for oversleeping, and probably for drinking rum the night before.  He did take the time to be thankful that he didn't have what the men called a hangover (he'd had enough of hanging his head over a bucket or the railing lately as it was).  He opened the door and stepped into the blinding sunlight._

_It must be nearly __noon_!  Why didn't Hook wake me?_  Peter wondered as his eyes adjusted to the glare.  _

"Peter, lad, good ta see ya up!" Smee called cheerfully from the wheel.  

Hook heard his bosun, and turned to see Peter standing on deck.  "Boy!  Go back to the cabin and get back in the bed."

"Captain?" Peter called back, confused by the strange order.

"You are not well.  I do not want you wasting what energy you have.  Go inside and rest, I'll have someone bring you something to eat."

Peter pressed his lips together to keep from arguing with the Captain.  He'd learned the hard way that he got best results when he voiced his objections in private.  Then Hook could change his mind and agree with the boy without seeming to back down.  _I don't want to stay cooped up in there.  I feel better when I'm outside._

"Ay, Captain," Peter replied, "but I would like to speak with you, sir, as soon as you have a moment."  When Hook nodded, Peter turned around and went back in their room.  He did not, however, get back in bed.  He sat at the desk and picked up the book that he had begun reading a few days ago, intent on at least keeping to his lessons today.

He had struggled through about a dozen pages when Hook entered, bearing a tray with lunch and some water on it.  He scowled when he saw that Peter was up, but said nothing.  He set the tray down and stood with his arms crossed.  _ He knows I told him to get in bed, and he deliberately flaunted my order.  Now he can explain himself._

Peter closed the book and turned to look at the Captain.  "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You're sick, Peter.  You need rest to get well."

Peter chuckled and shook his head.  "No, Captain, I'm dying.  Rest isn't going to help me."

"You're not…" Hook began.

"I am," Peter said softly.  "I can feel it.  But I will NOT just lie down and wait for it to happen!"  He stood up and stared at Hook defiantly, legs spread and fists on his hips.  "I am Peter Pan, and I do not simply give up.  I feel better when I am outside, I feel best when I am in the lookout.  Being inside, especially below deck, is what makes it worse.  This ship stinks.  It is dark and dank, and reeks of sweat, salt and blood.  If you force me to stay in bed, I'll die that much quicker."  He felt a whisper in his mind and voiced the thought, "Or are you tired of torturing me and ready for me to hurry up and fade away?"

Hook stared at Peter wordlessly, deep in thought.  The boy's words stung him, and his bitter tone at the end cut deep.  "I am not trying to torture you, Peter, and I most certainly do not want you to die.  I truly did want you to grow up on this ship, and I am sorry this has gone so badly.  By all means, if you feel better on deck doing duty, then you are welcome to it.  I merely wanted to help you recover, and did not mean to smother you."

The conciliatory tone in Hook's voice surprised Peter.  He had expected the man to argue with him, or to tell him "that's an order!" and force him into bed rest.  He felt a flush of shame as he realized Hook really was trying to help him.  "I'm sorry Captain.  I don't mean to be rude or ungrateful.  I just…" he sighed and rubbed his forehead, "I feel like I don't have much time.  I hate being tired and I hate being weak.  I don't want to give in; I intend to fight this until there's no strength in me to fight with.  And I know that if I lie down in defeat, I'll never get back up again.  If I'm to die, I'd like to spend my days being useful, and spending time with Billy and the crew.  I want to accomplish something; I want to finish our book.  I don't want to die before I find out what happens in the end."

Hook smiled at the determination in Peter's eyes.  _You still have your spirit.  After everything I've put you through, you still have your spirit and your pride.  I WILL find the answer, even if I do not sleep for a week.  I won't let your potential go to waste._

"Ay, Peter.  Very well, eat your lunch but take it slow.  I won't have you wasting food.  You will report to Mr. Jukes when you are done, you will assist him with his lighter duties."  Hook raised his hook when he saw Peter about to protest.  "You may wish to continue to be an asset, but I will not allow you to be so foolish as to take on tasks you are not fit for.  I won't have you exhausting yourself, and I don't trust your strength to lift something heavy.  I also won't have you dropping things or causing accidents because you overestimated yourself.  Is that clear?"

"Ay, Captain," Peter replied, and began to eat.

"Now, I want to talk to you about yesterday.  Pan said I had to solve your riddle."

Peter looked up in confusion, "Riddle?  I never asked you a riddle."

Hook pulled out the paper he had written the song on and showed it to Peter.  Peter read it slowly, thankful that the words were easy.  As he read, he felt the tune in his mind and knew that the song was his.  

"I don't remember this," he said finally and gave the paper back to Hook.

Hook nodded.  "Pan said that if I solved this, he would tell me how to save you.  I had hoped that since you were the one that sang this to me when I was paralyzed, you would know the answer."

"Shimi took away everything I remembered.  I know I remembered some things for a little while afterwards, but they faded away too.  Maybe when I gave you the riddle, I knew the answer then."

"You said last night I had to give it back.  You didn't say what 'it' was, but you said that Pan knew.  Can you make Pan tell?" Hook suggested hopefully.

The boy shook his head.  "No.  I thought Pan had gone away until he took over yesterday," Peter said as he took a bite of soup.  He frowned, "I got angry at you, and that's when it happened.  But he's quiet again now, just whispers.  I think when he takes over, I get sicker faster."

"Why would Pan keep the answer a secret," Hook wondered aloud.  "If you die, both of you die.  Why not tell me so that you can get better."

"I think he'd rather die than stay here.  He hates you that much," Peter said quietly.  "When I first came here, and I tried to escape, I knew that if I jumped ship I would drown.  But I didn't care.  I preferred death over remaining a prisoner on this ship.  That changed after you broke me."  He finished his soup in silence, and Hook watched him worriedly.  

"Come on then, let's go outside and get to work," Hook said as he stood.  Peter got up and followed the man onto the deck.

Over the course of the next several days, Peter continued to work alongside his shipmates.  He refused to submit to his illness, but he did make many necessary concessions.  He learned that if he ate his meals on deck, he was less likely to be sick afterwards.  He found that he had a hard time keeping his footing in the rigging, but once he made it to the lookout and sat in it for awhile, his vertigo would disappear for hours afterwards.  He also was forced to take naps to recoup his energy, and often would simply curl up in a coil of rope or on a pile of nets for a few minutes to sleep.  Only Davis ever really complained, but everyone knew he had a grudge and ignored him.  Even the densest pirate on board knew that Peter needed the naps, and most admired him the more for keeping to his duties as well as he did.  

Hook mandated (without Peter's knowledge) that the cabin-boy was not to ever be left alone.  He was kept at all times within eye and earshot of someone.  Hook feared that Pan would take over again and do something to harm the Captain or himself.  He also wanted another chance to speak with Pan, to find out the answer or maybe find a way to _make the boy tell him what he needed to know.  But Pan never during that time came forward.  Hook also did not forget his warning, and a battle waged in his mind over what to do.  Every night when Peter slept, he dreamed badly.  He dreamed of Captain Hook, and cried out against the man and the pain he was going though.  Hook could not hold him when he was like this, Peter would not suffer his touch, and he could only sit by and watch until the boy's dream exhausted itself._

Peter was slowly swabbing the poop-deck.  He was going slowly because he was fighting the nausea once again.  This time it was worse than it had been for days, and Peter knew he wasn't going to win the battle.  But still he fought, and repeated his mantra:  _I will not throw up, I will not throw up…  A tidal wave of dizziness overtook him and he sat down in a puddle of mop-water, unable to stand any longer._

"Boy?  What's wrong?"

Peter looked up and saw Hook standing over him.  "Nothing, sir," he began, and then quickly crawled to the railing.  He barely got his head over it before he vomited.  It was worse than earlier, and when his dry heaves subsided, he slid to the deck shaky and weak.  He finally became aware that Hook was kneeling beside him, one arm around his shoulders to steady him.

"You shouldn't be so obvious when you lie to me, Pan."

_He's angry at me, he called me Pan._  "I'm sorry sir, I didn't want to upset you."

"You should know by now you upset me more when you lie to me.  I'm worried about you.  It's getting worse, isn't it?"

Peter tried to nod, but it hurt his head and when he stopped, the world continued to bounce up and down.  He whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.

That was answer enough for Hook.  He picked Peter up and carried him to his bed.  When the boy was lying flat on his back, most of the vertigo subsided and he felt safe enough to open his eyes again.  Hook was staring at him intently, and it made Peter feel uncomfortable.  He returned the stare, but began to fidget after awhile.  

"Captain?" he said finally.

Hook blinked and seemed to shake himself.  "Lie here until you feel better.  If you want to chance it, go get something else to eat and get back to work.  Do you think you can finish swabbing or do you need to try something less physical?"

"I can finish, sir.  I was nearly done when you found me," Peter reassured him, somehow finding strength to put behind his words.

The captain nodded and left the boy alone.

Hook released Peter from duty by noon.  Peter had not lost his breakfast again, but he was tired, and soon became completely listless as he tried to complete his chore.  After watching the boy lean on his mop for a full five minutes before taking another swipe at the deck, Hook decided that enough was enough.

"Go to bed, son," he told the boy.

"Huh?" Peter looked at him blearily, not understanding.

Hook pried the mop from Peter's fingers and helped him stumble to his cot.  The child was asleep before his head hit the pillow.  Hook paused long enough to remove Peter's boots and put a blanket over him.  He felt Peter's face to reassure himself the boy had no fever.  _When he awakens, I'll give him some spiked tea to make him sleep properly.  The dreams are interfering with his rest.  Maybe I'll just make him drink the whiskey straight._

_Peter dreamed he was drowning.  When he could break the surface, the waves kept rolling over him, pushing him back under.  He saw a boat above him, but when he tried to grab a hold, a dark man with claws would hit his fingers and push him away.  Even under the water he could hear the man's laugh.  Beside him, another boy floated.  It was himself as he had been in Neverland, but he did not fight to regain the surface.  Pan smiled at Peter and held out his hand.  Peter shook his head and looked away.  He struggled for the surface, trying to breathe… trying to escape the dark thing gliding up from the depths to drag them both down. _

Hook sat in his chair and watched the boy sleep.  Peter had been comatose for two days, and now the man kept constant vigil by his bed.  It was coming soon, he knew that it was.  Peter no longer had his nightmares, had not made a single sound.  His breathing was shallow, as if his lungs were too tired to keep going, and his skin was deadly pale.  

Hook took another sip of his brandy and nodded his head.  It was time to finish this.  He had foolishly let it go on for too long, and it was time to end the boy's suffering once and for all.  _I don't want to lose him, but it hurts us both too much to make him go though this._  He set his cup on the nightstand and took up the pair of metal shears that lay there.  Jukes had given him these, and in one small cut this would be over.

He turned Peter's face away from him, and used his hook to bend the boy's right ear away from his head.  He positioned the shears around the stud of the earring and steadied himself to cut through the metal.

Suddenly, Peter jerked his head away and glared at Hook with eyes as hard as diamond.  "What are you doing, Codfish?" Pan demanded coldly.  All signs of his former lethargy were gone.

"I'm taking off that damned spell, Pan.  Both of you are going back to Neverland," Hook replied.

"Now why would you do a thing like that?  After all, you put so much time and effort into acquiring your trophy.  What of your vengeance?" he asked mockingly.

"Vengeance be damned, and so am I!  Peter is not a trophy.  He is a child, a special boy that I have cruelly wronged.  He doesn't belong to me, no matter how much I want him.  He's not meant to be caged.  I'm setting him free, so he can go back to the people that he loves and be the carefree child he used to be."

"And why do you care?  Why the sudden change of heart, if you can claim to have one?"

Hook stared at Peter, looking past the hateful eyes, remembering the smiling, happy boy that he once was.  "Because I love him," he said quietly.

Pan rolled his eyes and swore in fey.  "Fine!  You won.  You answered the riddle, and I promised Peter I'd answer your questions if you did."

"What?" Hook asked in confusion.

Pan giggled, "Peter's song was about how he only stayed because he needed you to love him.  You just said that you did, so I lost the bet."

Hook was overwhelmed with questions and he didn't know where to start.  "Stayed?  What do you mean stayed?  And what's this about a bet?  This isn't a game!  Your life is at stake here!"

Pan stared at him with eyes that didn't seem to be quite human.  "Everything is a game, Codfish.  Even our clashes in Neverland were games.  The game makes life worth living.  I am everything that Peter no longer wants to be.  I keep our magic in trust, I control the memory spell, and I hold all the answers that Peter has forgotten.  I hate you, and I don't for a second believe you are capable of love.  But that isn't the point; you claim to love Peter, so I'll give you the chance to prove it.  What do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you are sick, and how to help you," Hook answered.  He was tired of differentiating between Peter and Pan.

Pan nodded, "I am ill for one simple reason: I am not completely human."

"What?" Hook asked weakly.  He suddenly felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

"This is a secret only I and two other fey know, and I was once made to forget it.  On my life, no other fey must discover this.  My true father was half-elven, a mixing of human and fey blood that is forbidden.  I have my power because it is my right as an elf, not some side-effect of my mother's empowerment as the fey believe.  An elf draws his life and his strength from nature:  from fresh, clean water and air; solid, fertile earth; and most importantly, from being close to living things – wild animals and plants, especially trees.  I am dying because I lack these things on this ship, and my magic is fading away.  I must be taken ashore soon, and allowed to rest where the things I need abound.  Their life-force will replenish my magic, and therefore my life.  My magic is as much a part of me as my blood and my breath.  Without it I will die."

"We have been at sea for over three months, and not found an isle in that time," Hook moaned as he felt his hope die once again.  

"You have not found one because I have not let you find one.  Peter is powerful, though he does not know how to use our magic.  I do.  I personally would prefer death over this life, but Peter wanted to live so we stayed.  There is an isle just out of sight, and at dawn your lookout will spot it.  We will most likely last until you reach it.  We'll last longer now that I am no longer expending our strength in keeping us from the isle."

"Most likely?  And if we do not?  I won't let you die!  I won't gamble that we 'most likely' will make it there in time!" Hook snarled, angry that Peter could have been well, if Pan had not interfered.  He reached for the earring, intent on removing it anyway, but Pan knocked his arm away with a blow that belied the boy's weakened state.

"You cannot remove the spell.  I won't allow it.  Shimi temporarily healed the rift in our mind, and we were Peter Pan again.  She showed me all of my forgotten memories, and let me know the consequences of any decision I made.  I knew that if I removed the earring I would break the spell.  But to do that would kill Nibs, and you too by the way.  We decided not to break the spell, so then we had to decide between life on this ship, or death.  Peter wanted to stay with you, wanted you to care about him.  He misses having someone that loves him, and foolishly hopes you'll fill that role.  I know better.  I wanted us to die, to keep you from hurting us more.  It's a bonus that if I die, so do you.  But Peter was insistent, and as Peter Pan our more human side won out, and we decided to stay here and see what you would do."

"You could have gone back and you stayed… you could have been the eternal child again," Hook stammered in disbelief.

"For Nibs we did not return.  For you we lived," Pan repeated.  "If you love Peter, then why have you never told him?"

  Hook looked away, "I don't know.  I don't understand love, but I understand that I would rather give him up than see him like this for another minute.  Even knowing that I would die, I would still free him."

Pan frowned and shook his head.  "Perhaps you do love him then.  If you were any other person, I would give up and let Peter live happily with you.  But I can't forgive you for what you've done to us.  I've answered your questions.  Do you have any more?  I don't have much time left, I hurt Peter when I take over… he fights me too much."

"I… I don't know," Hook thought, trying to remember what else he might need to know.  But the information that Pan had slammed him with left him uncertain and flustered, and he couldn't concentrate.

Pan grinned unpleasantly and him, then gasped as the ever-present pain in his head intensified.  He felt his nose begin to bleed and knew that Peter was waking.  "Sorry, Codfish, we're out of time," he groaned.  "Maybe next time, I'll be strong enough to kill you."  He let go, and felt himself return to the background, keeping silent vigil, as Peter awoke.

Hook watched Pan fall asleep, and felt fear that he had not asked something important.  _But there is hope.  If all he needs is shore leave, and an island will be visible in the morning, then there is hope that he will live.  _Hook wept silently, his emotions becoming too strong to hold within any longer.  He felt hope and fear, relief and anxiety, and surrounding all of those, he felt and understood his love for this child.  He took Peter's small hand in his own and held it tight.

"Codfish," he heard a small voice say, "Why are you crying?"

Hook looked up to see Peter's blue eyes staring at him… they were Peter's eyes, not Pan's.  "Because you give me so much grief, Peter," he answered, but did not bother to wipe away the tears.

"I'm sorry.  I tried to make you happy and make you proud.  I just couldn't hold on anymore."

"No, Peter.  You have made me proud and happy.  But don't worry; I know how to help you now.  Just stay with me until tomorrow and you will feel better."

"I don't know if I can.  I'll try," Peter said, and his face creased with worry.  

"If you can't hold on, tell me.  I will remove the spell and send you back to Neverland," Hook promised.

Peter looked stricken as he remembered the choice he made.  Suddenly he remembered what he had been shown, and why he had made his decision.  His hand crept to the earring and closed around it protectively.  "No, you can't take it.  You gave it to me."

"Peter, if I can find a way to take you back to Neverland, so that Nibs doesn't die, I will.  I promise," Hook said softly.

"No…," Peter whispered as he felt sleep overtaking him again.  "Stay…."

Hook gently cleaned Peter's face, wondering why the child could possibly want to stay if he could go back without killing his friend.  _Pan said Peter loves me… wants me to be like a father to him.  Can I trust Pan?  Can I trust myself not to hurt Peter again?  God, everything I've done to him, and he wants to stay.  I don't understand love, it makes no sense.  Hook listened as the watch rang the bells, and thought for a second.  "Six hours, Peter.  Six hours until dawn.  Pan promised that land would be in sight; then a few hours after that to reach shore.  Hold on, son, and I'll have you ashore by noon.  Please hold on."  Knowing he needed rest, but too fearful to let Peter out of his sight, he carried the boy to his own bed.  He crawled beneath the blanket, nestling the child beside him, and finally allowed himself some sleep._


	14. Final Battle

As the dawn approached and the sky began to lighten, the watch called "Land, Ho!"  Within minutes, every man on the ship was awake and at the railing, staring at the dark mass of land that was becoming more visible as the day approached.  Hook himself arose at the call, stood by the helm and stared at his boy's last hope.  He was relieved to see that the island was closer that he had thought it would be, and knew that they would be ashore in mere hours.  

"Hold on Peter," he whispered, and closed his eyes to pray.  _Please, don't do it for me… I don't deserve any favors.  But for the child, please let him last long enough to get the healing he needs.  "Ready the longboat!" he yelled, "and put supplies on it for the boy and me to set up camp with.  The rest of you louts may have shore leave, but you will not disturb us, and you will return to the ship at dark.  Smee!  Jukes! You two will camp with me.  Mr. Little, you have charge of the ship while I'm gone."_

The men jumped to prepare, and Hook returned to his cabin to gather things he would need.  While he packed, he kept a close eye on Peter, noting the boy's ragged gasps were becoming more irregular, and his skin taking a bluish tint.  "Soon, lad.  I promise," he reassured himself and urged the boat to sail faster.

A few hours later, Hook stood in the longboat as half a dozen of his crew rowed as fast as they were able.  "Row, you miserable mule-faced mutton-headed mooks!" he yelled as he cracked the cat.  At his feet in the bottom of the boat, Peter lay wrapped in a blanket.  The only way he knew the boy was still alive was through their bond.  The other men were convinced he was dead, and Billy Jukes rowed blindly with tears in his eyes.  But they rowed on, fearing Hook's wrath, and wanting to be nowhere near the man when he accepted Peter's death as reality.

As soon as the longboat was ashore, Hook leapt to the beach with Peter in his arms.  Quickly, he strode to the tree-line, seeking a place to put Peter.  _Pan said he had to be near living things, especially trees.  _He settled on a place near at hand, a small clearing surrounded by strange trees and fern, the ground thick with moss.  He lay Peter on the ground and knelt beside him, suddenly unsure of what to do.  Jukes and Smee entered a few minutes later, laden with their supplies.  

"Cap'n?" Jukes asked as he set the bags down.  "Is he…"

"No," Hook answered, "he's alive, but barely." He shook his head, "I don't know what to do now.  I've been so intent on just getting him ashore that I don't know what to do now that he's here."

"I guess we wait," Billy answered.  "We have to let Peter rest, and be here for him when he wakes up."  He looked around and frowned, "I wonder if there're fairies around here… we're still in the fey realm.  Maybe they could help."

Hook also frowned and looked around.  As long as there was hope, he had no intention of giving Peter up, and any fairies that saw Peter Pan alive might spread the news.  "I don't know whether to hope for that or not.  A fairy might be able to help, but she would probably take Peter from us.  I'll surrender him if his life is at stake, but he's mine and I do not want to let him go."

They set up camp there, and waited.  Hook stayed close to the boy, reading a book for the most part.  Jukes and Smee scouted the area near their site and gathered firewood and food.  By nightfall, they all were in better spirits.  Peter's color was coming back and he was breathing deeply and quietly.  He was going to live.

Slowly, gently, Peter awoke.  He felt good, so much better than he had for a long time.  He opened his eyes and saw that it was night.  He stared at the stars for awhile, marveling at how beautiful they were.  _I thought I was dead.  Maybe I am and that's why I feel better.  Why isn't the ship moving?_

"Welcome back, son," came a deep voice from nearby.

He turned his head and saw Hook sitting beside a small campfire.  The man was smiling (which was unsettling), and he genuinely looked relieved.  "I'm happy to see you're finally awake," the man continued, moving to sit closer to him.

_I'm not your son, Codfish_, Pan thought.  Peter brushed the thought aside and managed a wry smile.  "I don't know if I'm happy to be back, but I'm happy you're happy."  He tried to sit up, and gasped as his muscles rebelled and cramped.

Hook put his hand on the boy's chest and held him still.  "You haven't moved on your own for five days, Peter.  You passed out on the ship and nearly died.  We've been on this island for two days waiting for you to wake up.  Take it slow.  I'll help you."

_We don't need his help._  "Yes, we do," Peter muttered quietly.

"What?" Hook asked with a frown.

"I'm just talking to myself," Peter answered, chuckling.

"That's not funny, Peter."

"I'm not joking, Captain," the boy snapped, trying to sit up again.  He let Hook help him and found that once he was up he had no problem sitting on his own.  He took the cup of water Hook handed him and drained it, realizing just how thirsty he was.  

"I'll heat you some stew, we've been giving you broth all this time, but it's been difficult to give you enough to sustain you," Hook said as he put a pot on the fire.  "Jukes snared a rabbit today, and between the three of us we've been able to manage food a little better than Cookson's fare."

"Not terribly difficult," Peter chuckled.  "Thank you, sir.  I am hungry," he said softly, looking around the camp at the two lumps asleep under their blankets.  "Where's the rest of the crew?"

"On the ship.  I'm being liberal with their shore leave and I've left Little in charge."  He looked up again when he had the food heating and stared at Peter.  "How do you feel?"

"I feel better," Peter replied, "almost as well as I did before you kidnapped me.  But I'm still tired.  I'm just too tired of sleeping right now to want to lie back down."

"And Pan?" Hook asked, fearing the answer.

"Still here," Peter answered.  He was going to say more, but Pan stopped him.  _Don't!  I'm you and you're me, don't betray yourself.  One way or another, we will find home, whether home is back in Neverland or on the _Jolly Roger_.  But we won't have any choices left to us if we give him all the cards.  Peter nodded to himself.  "But he's not a problem for now." __We've come to an understanding.  "I'm stronger now, and I can deal with it.  So," he said, looking around at the dark trees surrounding them, "what have I missed?"_

A few hours later, Peter was still up when Billy awoke.  The gunner stared in amazement to see his friend conscious again, then tackled the boy in a huge hug.  

"Ow, Billy!" Peter yelped, but he hugged back just as hard.  _This one at least we both agree on.  And if we can, we will definitely take him back to Neverland with us.  "So, I guess you missed me."_

"Well," Billy said, suppressing the tears of relief, "I've needed help with Long Tom, and you're the only one I trust to help clean him."

"I love you too," Peter laughed.  "Now, would you get off me?  I can't breathe."

Billy just grinned at the boy he had pinned beneath him, then gasped in horror as he was lifted up off the ground.  

"I understand your enthusiasm, Billy," Hook growled as he set the boy to the side, "but Peter really isn't strong enough for your customary horsing around."  

Billy cringed a bit, expecting punishment, but he relaxed when he saw Hook smile.  "Ay, Cap'n.  Sorry Peter, I'm just happy to see you awake."

"Me too," Peter replied, yawning, "but now I think I'm going to go back to sleep.  I wanted to sit up till you got up, but I know how Hook works you, so I wanted you to rest while you could.  I'll see you when I wake up."  The other two nodded to him as he laid back down, and before he could finish mumbling "good night", he was fast asleep.

Peter rested on the island for almost two weeks.  Hook spent most of his time with the boy, helping him get his strength back, cooking, watching over him when he slept, and keeping them both occupied by continuing Peter's lessons in reading, math and music.  Billy and Smee helped, but Hook also sent them back and forth to the ship to keep an eye on things and let him know what was going on.  

Hook gave the boy the time he needed ashore, prepared to stay a month if Peter decided he needed it.  The only reason the men didn't complain was that they had been ship-bound for too long, and had no idea how long it would be before they could see land again.  The old crew came to visit the camp from time to time, but few of the new men stopped by.  They liked Peter well enough (most of them at least), but they knew the boy was unnatural, and they never liked being around him too much.

Peter appreciated the effort Hook was going through for him.  He knew how much Hook loved his ship, and how much it galled him to have to trust to Mr. Little to run things.  Little was a dependable sailor, and loyal to Hook.  He'd led the men well on the _Blood Rose_ and was so capable that Hook had made him his first mate.  But Hook's absence sparked dissention on the ship, as some of the pirates began to mutter the man was going soft and wasn't fit to captain a pirate ship anymore.  They'd not dare say such things if Hook was there, but with the man hovering over Peter like a mother hen, his credibility as a cruel, heartless pirate was suffering.

And Hook's hovering was having a negative effect on Peter, too.  At first, he didn't mind that the Captain was _always_ around.  He was alive, and stronger, and he was on land again.  Being on land meant everything to him.  He could feel the life in everything around him, even to the point that he knew when animals were venturing close to the campsite.  He'd never noticed this in Neverland, but then he'd taken so much for granted there that he'd never appreciated what he'd had or what he could do until it was too late.  So at first he simply rested, letting Hook take care of him while he basked in the glow of life.  Even his Pan voice stayed fairly quiet, offering only a few sarcastic comments from time to time.  Every aspect of his being was relieved at being back on land, and was determined to make the most of it.

But then he got bored.  He wasn't recovered enough to go back to the ship, but he was tired of sitting in the camp with Hook.  He found himself staring at the trees for long periods of time, wondering what was beyond them.  Sometimes he watched the breeze in the branches, wishing he could be up there where the air was free.  _Freedom,_ both Peter and Pan would whisper to each other, and look at Hook with resentment for everything the man had taken from him.  

Peter still loved Hook, and Pan still hated him, but this time was for recovering and for waiting to see, so they did not argue or fight for control.  They even began once again to understand each other, conceding points the other made.  Peter managed to convince Pan that Hook at least was capable of love, and Pan convinced Peter that even if Hook loved him, it may not be safe to remain with the man.  They thought that if they could have enough time here, alone, they could come to complete understanding and heal the rift again.  As much as Peter and Pan differed, they both desperately wanted to become one again.

Unfortunately, Hook – for all the help and concern he had given the boy – was still a problem.  With the man constantly there, the two parts of Peter could not find enough peace.  The boy craved some solitude, the part of him that still claimed to be free desperate to roam for awhile.  He wanted to see the island, to run with the animals and dance in the glens.  He wanted to swim in the water and sleep in the boughs of the trees.  He was strong enough physically now, and could fend for himself for a day or so.  It was his magic that needed to strengthen, and his spirit needed to commune with nature in solitude.   

It wasn't that Peter didn't appreciate the man.  Hell, there were a few times Pan had whispered a sullen thanks to the pirate, much to Hook's astonishment.  Hook could tell when it was Peter or Pan, the boy's face (especially his eyes) and his manner changed when one or the other spoke to him.  Fortunately, Pan rarely spoke, and it was always brief.  There were no headaches or nosebleeds, either, because at those times Peter allowed his other side to come forward.  No, both aspects were getting along (even though Pan was so much stronger now), and they knew that Hook was to thank for their recovery.  But everyone needs time alone from time to time.  Peter had always been a free spirit, fiercely independent and headstrong.  He'd become more tame and dependant on the ship because he'd been too weak and hurt to fight.  But now he was better, and he needed to prove to himself that he was still self-reliant and capable.  But how could a boy do that when he wasn't allowed out of a grown-up's sight for even a minute?

"I want to go for a walk," Peter said suddenly, interrupting Hook's recitation of a scene from _Hamlet._

"Don't interrupt," Hook snapped, "We'll go for a walk when we're done with your lesson."

"Not 'we'," Peter corrected, "'I'.  _I want to go for a walk.  The only 'we' in 'I' are in my head."_

"Don't be an idiot!  You are still recovering …"

"Actually, nothing's changed for two days.  I need to be alone if I'm going to get better," Peter interrupted again.  

Hook glared at Peter for a few minutes, and the boy returned his stare just as fiercely.  Peter had first brought up this idea yesterday after lunch, and Hook had opposed it then.  He still opposed it now.  _I didn't go through all that to save his life, just so he could go wandering off alone and get eaten by a tiger or bitten by a snake.  Besides, we still don't know if there are any fey here, and if there are I don't want him to find them._

Billy looked up from the rabbit he was skinning and watched the two.  He knew what Peter wanted, they'd talked about it the few times Hook _had_ left camp for a little while.  He also understood why Hook refused to let Peter go.  Hell, both understood what the other thought, and both were equally determined that the other's reasons weren't good enough.  _Do I dare open my mouth?  If Hook left Peter alone and went back to the ship for a day or so, it would solve two problems at once.  Ah well, he won't hit me so hard with Peter here.  _

"Cap'n?  Somethin' I been meaning to talk to you about, sir," Billy said aloud, breaking the tension.  Both Hook and Peter looked at him, and both had a touch of relief in their eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Jukes?" Hook replied.

"Sir, things aren't right on the ship.  Mr. Little's been doing a fine job, course there isn't much captaining to be done on an anchored ship, but the men are getting restless.  They ain't quite ready to set sail yet, sir, but some of 'em are getting' lax.  The trouble-makers are listenin' more to Davis lately.  They drink too much and do their jobs half-assed.  It's gettin' harder for Little to keep order, even with Mason and a few of the other good salts backing him up.  There's been some fights already, and I just know that a big one's brewin'.  There could be killin' next time." Billy took a deep breath.  "Cap'n, the _Jolly Roger_ needs her Captain.  If you came back, even for a day, you could bust some heads and whip the boys back into shape." 

Peter stared at Billy for a bit as he thought.  He didn't like the news that there was trouble on the ship, and he felt some worry for those crewmen on board that he liked.  "Captain, we should go back to the ship."

Hook glanced at Peter and rolled his eyes.  "I thought you wanted some time alone, now you want back on the ship?"

"If Davis has friends and they want to make trouble for our crew, then we have to go and stop them," Peter replied. 

_Our crew,_ Hook mused.  He smiled at the small tell that signified Peter had accepted the ship and the men as a part of his life.  _Perhaps I should give him time alone… but I can't be sure something bad won't happen.  "I'll think about it.  I think, Mr. Jukes, that a few of our loyal shipmates should come visit me tonight.  I need more information, but Mr. Little can't come see me himself.  Mason should stay aboard and lend his muscle.  Leave the rabbit, I'll finish and start it to cooking.  Invite a couple of shipmates over for supper tonight, and bring some bread back with you."_

Billy stood and wiped the blood off his hands.  "Ay, Cap'n.  I'll be back shortly."  With a nod to his Captain and his friend, he left.

Mullins and Corzone joined Smee, Jukes, Hook and Peter for supper that night.  The Captain listened intently to the men as they told him of some of the problems, and which men had been causing them.  He knew he needed to go back and restore order.  But what to do with Peter?

            Peter looked at Hook when the men were gone, and the need in his eyes gave Hook pause.  "Sir, I really don't want to go back to the ship.  Not yet.  But you need to go back, soon.  What if you go tomorrow and leave me here alone.  I won't roam far, and I'll meet you back here for supper.  Please, just let me have some time."  He saw Hook was about to object, could feel the man's resolve hardening, and he pressed on.  "You trusted Pan when he told you to bring us here.  But you don't trust me when I tell you I need to be alone.  That really hurts," he trailed off and looked away.

Hook stared at the boy, thinking about what he'd said.  "I do trust you.  I know you need to be alone.  I just don't know if your need outweighs the risks involved."  He held up his hook when Peter tried to speak.  "Listen to me now, boy, and do not argue with me further.  I am your Captain, and when I make a decision, you will not keep wheedling me, trying to change my mind.  I will think about your request, and I'll let you know what I decide to do tomorrow.  Now, go to sleep." 

Peter nodded, knowing better than to say anything else about it.  He laid down and pulled his blanket over him.  "Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight, Peter," Hook said, getting ready for sleep himself.

"Goodnight, Codfish," Pan sang, "Don't sleep too soundly."

"Sweet dreams, Pan.  I hope _you_ don't wake up," Hook retorted, and heard the boy giggle.  A minute later, Peter was fast asleep.  _He's getting worse.  The island has healed him, but Pan's benefited most of all.  He and Peter are on equal footing, and I fear that Peter only retains control because Pan lets him.  I'm going to have to do something before we sail again.  I don't know what, but I _have_ to eliminate Pan forever… for Peter's safety and my own._

"Captain, for the last time, please go," Peter said in exasperation.  "I'll be fine.  I want to explore the island.  I need to feel like I can depend on myself again.  I'm not a baby, I'm Peter Pan.  I lived on my own for longer than you were alive, and I need this.  Please," he repeated, "go back and take care of your ship.  Those are pirates, and they'll turn on you if you don't remind them that you're still the dreaded Captain Hook.  And when you're done, come back here and you'll see how much better I am."

Hook wanted to argue with the boy, but Peter was right.  He had to go back.  He didn't want to leave Peter alone, but he also knew better than to drag the boy with him to the ship.  Peter wasn't ready yet, and if it came to a battle on the _Jolly Roger_, he didn't know if the boy could actually kill a man.  Pan probably could, but would Peter be able to come back after that?  He'd offered to have Billy stay with him, but Peter refused, and Hook had a feeling that Peter would conveniently 'lose' Billy for a while if he left them here.  Still, though, he hesitated.  "I can't.  I know you can take care of yourself, Peter…" he began.

"You're afraid, aren't you Codfish," Pan growled suddenly.

"I fear no one, especially not you!  Now go, Peter and I were discussing something," Hook spat angrily.  

"Peter's tired of arguing with you, so he let me try," Pan said.  "You're afraid I'll find some fairies on this island, and they'll send me back.  What happened to the man that claimed to love us… who was going to break the spell to send us home?"

"You're not dying anymore, so there's no reason to send you back."

Pan laughed.  _See?  Even if you asked to go home, he wouldn't release us.  If he loved you, he would._  "I'm not worried about that right now.  I'm tired of being under your thumb, and even though Peter wouldn't put it like that, he is too.  Go whip your men back into submission, show them who is Captain.  As much as I like this island, it isn't Neverland, and we have no wish to be stranded here.  There are no fairies here that we can tell.  If they are here, they have no wish to speak with us.  Every fey knows Peter Pan, it's our kinship.  But I have a feeling this spell you have us under has cut us off so completely that they would probably not even recognize us."

"Why should I believe you?" Hook sneered.

"Have I lied to you yet?  Hid the truth, yes, but I've not lied to you.  As much as I hate you, and as much as I'd love to see the color of your blood, I've played by the rules for Peter."  He drew the dagger he'd lifted from Hook the night before while Hook and Peter slept and smiled, "but rules can be broken.  Go, Captain, or we'll have a fight that you and Peter both will regret."  _Stop it!  Peter thought, but he'd let Pan come forward and he couldn't take it back.  "Or are you afraid to fight me?"_

Hook had his sword halfway out before he stopped himself.  He hated this boy as much as he loved Peter, and it was all he could do to keep himself from attacking.  He stood there with his hand on the hilt, quivering in rage.  He knew Pan was goading him, and it just made him angrier to realize the brat was succeeding.

"There it is," Pan said in a sing-song voice.  "You _do hate us." He giggled and his feet lifted off the ground._

Seeing Pan float reinforced Hook's anger, but it frightened him, too.  "How?  You don't have pixie dust, so how are you flying?"

Pan shrugged, "I have no idea.  I'm not really flying, just floating, but maybe I don't need the dust.  We are part elf, after all.  Elves don't fly, but they have their own talents.  This makes it interesting.  Perhaps we can fly home after all…" _Here's the proof, you can feel it coming off him in waves.  What little 'love' he claims to hold for you is all too easily overcome by his hate for me.  Give up and let me fight for us, and we'll find our way home.  Oberon will break the spell without hurting Nibs, and he will fix us.  We'll be one mind again!_

From the background, Peter watched in despair.  He could feel the hate Hook felt, and it hurt him.  _You betrayed me, Pan.  You were supposed to help me convince him to let us alone for a while.  Instead, you've goaded him and destroyed everything.  Why won't you let me be happy?_

_Because I want to be happy, too!_ Pan snapped back.  _We're both too selfish to get what we want, so we have to compromise:  I won't kill Hook and you won't make me live with him.  Nibs, Curly, Slightly, Twins, Tootles…TinkerBell for crying out loud - THEY love us!  They love us more than he is capable of, and there isn't an ounce of hate in them to mar it.  We're floating, we could probably fly!  We could go home and be free from pain, and hate, and fear.  We miss Neverland, don't let the chance slip away!_

At the mention of the boy flying home, Hook did draw his sword.  "I will not let you go!  I can't let you go!  It doesn't matter if you are Peter or Pan.  I defeated Pan, and he is my trophy.  I adopted Peter, and I love him too much to let him go."

Pan faltered a moment, and Peter came through.  "You love me?  How can you love me when you hate me so much?  I can feel it in you!"  
            "Peter?" Hook called, "I do love you.  I love the boy you've become, and I'm the man you changed me into.  Pan is everything you don't want to be, and he brings out everything I don't want to be.  Please, push him aside and come back to me."

"Please, Captain," Peter cried, "just go away for a day or so.  I promise I won't leave, I don't think I can.  If you aren't around, the split won't get worse.  Maybe it will get better."

Hook wanted to believe him.  He would have left, if Pan hadn't shown that he could fly.  He trusted Peter, but the boy was losing control.  He didn't doubt that Pan could and would take over and find a way to escape.  "No, there has to be another way."

Pan was back in a flash, and he darted forward and attacked.  Hook found himself in a desperate battle, fighting not only Pan, but also himself.  The boy was still too weak, so Hook was able to parry all the blows quite easily.  But this was too much like old times, with Pan flying around, hurling taunts and insults, and he felt that old rage trying to take hold.  _I can't lose control.  I can't or I'll kill him._

_Stop it!_ Peter thought, _you'll kill him!___

_So? Pan thought as he tried yet again to get a strike on the man._

_I don't want him to die.  You shouldn't either, it will destroy us!_

Pan laughed at Peter.  _It will hurt you, yes, but not me.  I'm not bound, and I'm split enough from you now that I don't think it will affect me much.  I can protect you from the worst of it, if you just give up and go to sleep.  When you wake up, we'll be one person again and we'll tell the Lost Boys about our adventures!_

"I'm going to kill you, Codfish!" Pan crowed.  "I promised you that night that I would, and I keep my promises."

Hook fought back the surge of hate as he remembered that night.  That night, he'd broken the boy with his hate, and that act had started this problem he faced now.  "I don't think so, boy," he replied, an idea forming in his mind.  "I think it's time I fixed you once and for all."  He struck out with all his strength, knowing he'd hurt Peter but knowing also that he couldn't keep dodging forever.  Pan met him blade to blade, and the force of Hook's strike knocked him back against a tree.  He saw stars as the back of his head connected with the trunk, and Hook took that opportunity to disarm him and pin him down on the ground.

"NO!" both boys screamed as one, the memory of the breaking strong in their mind as Pan found himself pinned in the same position again.  "Please, don't," he cried in fear, "don't do it again, please don't."  Tears poured from his eyes, too afraid and traumatized to stop.  "We'll be good, we promise!"

Hook looked down at the child, and he felt the naked terror coming off the boy.  _I've hurt him so much.  I hope that I don't hurt him too much now.  I don't know how I'm going to fix him, but I have to try._  "I'm sorry Peter.  Please, help me help you.  I don't want to break you again, but if you fight me, I might do it by accident.  We can't continue like this… _you_ can't continue like this.  And I can't let you go, not anymore."  Gently, he caressed the boy's face, wiping away a tear.  "You are mine."

Pan snarled at him, and bit Hook's hand, hard.  Hook gasped at the pain and wrenched his hand free from the boy's teeth.  Enraged, Hook slapped him on the cheek and instantly regretted it.  _This is mirroring too much the time before… I have to keep control of myself.  _

"You lied to me!  You promised you wouldn't do it again, ever!  I hate you!" the boy wailed, and Hook couldn't tell if it was Pan or Peter speaking.

"I know, son.  But I'm going to fix that right now," Hook said softly, and let his mind find Peter's, visualizing it as he'd done before.

Peter Pan stared, united in fear, as he felt the Captain entering his mind.  It was a familiar intrusion, but unpleasant, and he'd never been awake for it before.  He fought it to no avail, screaming in frustration as he felt Hook touching his mind, feeling the connections between them as chains binding them together.  Then, he realized how Hook was doing it, and he focused his mind on the man's.  _We won't let you do this!  You have no right to be here!  He lashed out in outrage and took control._

Hook looked around in wonder.  He was floating in a fog, and he had a physical form.  He looked down and saw his body, hook and all.  He looked back up and saw the blue glowing sphere of Peter's memory spell, and knew he was within Peter's mind.  _I was merely probing him, how did I get within?  There was a giggle behind him.  He turned around and gasped when he saw two boys floating there, staring at him.  One was clad in brown, the other in black.  Both were Peter Pan and both were holding swords.  _

"Go away, Captain," Peter said.  "You're making this worse.  Just leave us alone.  You have no right to interfere.  It's our mind, and we will work this out.  If you love me, you'll trust me to handle this on my own."

"I do love you, Peter," Hook replied, looking at the black clad youth.  "But this is gone too far.  I broke you, I will fix you.  I didn't finish fixing you the first time, I will now."

"You did this, what makes you think you're capable of fixing it?" Pan snarled, drifting forward a bit.  Peter took his arm and stopped him, not wanting the two to start fighting again.  "Let us go and I won't kill you."

"No," Hook said simply.  "I think I will kill you instead," he said, pointing his sword at the brown clad boy.  "Then only Peter will be left, and this will be over."

Pan laughed merrily at the idea, but Peter stared, stricken. 

"Come on, Codfish!  Kill me if you can.  The winner gets Peter!" and he dove forward.  

Hook snarled, screaming his own hatred at the boy, and they fell to.  

"No, stop!" Peter cried helplessly as he floated and watched.  He didn't know what to do or who to help.  Pan was him, he couldn't betray himself.  But he loved Hook, had seen the man he was becoming, and could no more fight him than he could fight Pan.  He drifted close to the fight, torn with indecision and uncertainty.  He despaired, knowing that whatever the outcome, he would be destroyed.

The battle lasted an eternity; both combatants were equals in strength.  Here, strength was determined by will and cunning, and they were a perfect match.  But Hook was more ruthless than even Pan could be, and he gradually gained the upper hand.  He bided his time, and when Pan left an opening, he surged through it and pierced the boy's shoulder with his blade.  Pan's sword fell from his grasp as he screamed in pain.  Hook laughed in triumph and raised his hook to finish the job.

Peter's sword stopped the killing blow, and Hook stared in disbelief that Peter would fight against him.  "I won't fight you if I can help it Captain, but you are mistaken.  If you kill Pan, you kill me."

"What do you mean," Hook growled suspiciously.  Pan floated, curled up and clutching his wound, harmless for the moment.

"You just don't get it," Peter snapped.  "We are two sides of the same soul.  You can't just cut him out of me and expect me to be able to live!  He's as much a part of me as I am of him.  We are the two sides of Peter Pan.  We are one soul, one mind, two ways of being.  If you kill him, you will do worse to me now than what you did to me before.  It would be better if you withdrew and killed my body, and it would be less cruel.  Pan is who I was, every part of me that cannot tolerate life with you away from Neverland.  Peter is partly who I was, the part that doesn't hate you, but he is also who you have made me."

"But I have to do _something!" Hook cried out.  "I have to fix you!"_

Peter stared at him, tears in his eyes.  "I'm beyond that now.  You've tried to control me too much, and you've shattered what you wanted to fix.  If you had just let me alone, let me be, I could have centered myself and been able to live with you for awhile longer.  By the time I needed space again, we could have found another island.  But now even Peter is tainted, and neither of us can live with you.  I do love you, Captain, but I can never trust you.  Please leave us alone.  Take your ship and go."

Hook stared at the boy and his heart broke.  Peter felt the man's pain and turned away from it as best as he could.  "It's not right," Hook said softly.  "Why can't I have someone that loves me?  Why will I always be denied?"  He sobbed in grief and turned to leave.  He stopped when he saw the memory spell.  He saw things that touched it, memories, disappear.  He saw a few memories slip out of the holes, but the holes were small and not many escaped.  He looked at the two boys, a desperate idea taking hold, his grief and rage depriving him of rational thought.

"If I can't kill you, I'll cage you!  I'll lock you away so you will leave us alone!" he screamed and grabbed Pan.  

Pan and Peter both screamed in fear and lashed out at him.  But Hook ignored Pan's feeble kicks and Peter's blind slashes with his sword.  He turned back to the memory spell and with all his strength he threw Pan into it.  Both boys screamed again, this time in pain, the sounds of mind wrenching torment, as the memory spell did something it was not meant to do.  It tried to absorb the boy, Pan's arm and legs disappearing within its hold.  But Pan fought it and Peter joined him, grabbing his other arm and pulling. 

"Captain, please, no!" Peter screamed as he pulled, "Help me!"

But Hook had no intention of releasing Pan.  He saw the memory spell try to falter as Peter began pulling Pan free, and he in his own desperation reached for the binding spell.  He found the tendrils that bound him to Peter and used them to bind Pan to the sphere.  The two spells twisted together, forming into something new, something completely unexpected and powerful, and Pan disappeared into the spell.  

Peter stared at the sphere, which glowed red now and was growing larger.  He turned to Hook and stared at the man with dead eyes.  "What have you done to me?" he said softly as he dissipated into mist.

"Peter!" Hook cried and fear filled him.  "Dear God, what _did I do to him?" He felt himself being pushed out, and he floated free of Peter's mind again.  The cloud he looked upon was now symmetric, the irregular piece that had been Pan gone.  But the entire mind was changed.  It looked emptier, less active, and as Hook watched, he saw the red sphere grow.  The things he knew to be memories were eaten up by the thing until nothing remained.  Then, it shrank back down to its original size and was still._

Hook sent a thought to the boy, trying to determine what he'd done.  Peter was still there, he wasn't destroyed, but he didn't respond either.  There were no emotions within that cloud, no memories, no coherent thoughts.  Hook felt himself being drawn back to himself and went.  He blinked, and saw Mr. Smee looking down at him.

"Cap'n?" he asked sadly, "ya hurt the wee lad again, didn't ya."

Hook sat up in alarm and looked around.  Peter was lying on the ground beside him, and blood leaked from his ears and nose.  His eyes were closed and he was curled up in a ball.  Hook reached for him and pulled him into his lap.  "Peter, wake up!" he whispered, but there was no answer.  Hook continued to hold him, knowing the boy's body lived but unsure of his mind, and waited.


	15. A New Beginning

He first heard a sound.  He knew it was a sound, but he didn't know what it was that he heard.  It was a deep thumping noise, steady and strong, and he listened to it and felt safe.  He gradually realized he heard another, similar sound.  This other one was faster and not as deep, but it was also steady and strong, and made a pleasant rhythm with the other one.  He felt warmth against one side of him, his skin pressed against something warm and firm, but soft.  

_Someone's holding me,_ he realized.  It kind of startled him, the thought when there had been no thoughts before, but he also realized that that was right, that thoughts were normal.  _Who is holding me? _he thought next, and a million other questions followed on the heels of that one.  

He opened his eyes, feeling the familiar but strange sensation of seeing.  He saw white.  _Cloth, he realized, _the someone's shirt_.  He stirred a bit, trying to turn his head and see more.  He heard the deep thumping quicken, and saw a strange face peering down at him._

"Peter?" Hook called softly, hoping that his prayer had been answered and he'd not damaged the boy permanently.

The boy frowned, not understanding what was going on.  "Who… who are you?" he asked fearfully.  He felt his fear grow at the strange expression on the man's face.

_He doesn't remember me?  _Hook thought in alarm.  _The spell, the memory spell, it did this.  "What do you remember?" he asked._

The boy opened his mouth to answer, but nothing presented itself in his mind to be spoken for.  He started to shake, "I don't remember anything.  Who am I?  Who are you?  Why can't I remember?" he began to cry in fear, and the man's arms tightened around him.

Hook held the boy, as he'd held him for the past several hours, and tried to collect his thoughts.  _He doesn't remember anything?  Is this permanent?  Will he recover?  _There were too many questions and not enough answers.  An idea came to him, though, a whisper from somewhere.  _This is a chance to start over.  He awoke from trauma once, long ago and became Peter Pan.  He can begin anew again now.  _

"Calm down," he soothed, "Your name is Peter."

"Peter?" the boy repeated unsteadily.  That felt okay, so he said it again.  "Peter.  Who are you?" he asked.

The man looked down at him uncertainly for a moment, then said, "I'm your father, Peter.  I'm James Hook.  You are Peter Hook, my son.  Don't be afraid, you were hurt but you're better now.  I'm here and I love you, there's nothing to be afraid of anymore."  _I'm going to Hell, _Hook thought, _but it will be worth it if I can have him as my own.  I wonder if he'll kill me when he remembers._

"Father," Peter repeated.  "I'm Peter and you're Father.  You love me?"  The man nodded at him and he relaxed.  The fear began to leave him somewhat at the reassurance, and he felt himself drifting off to sleep again.  "That's good, I was afraid you were someone else."

"Who?" Hook asked.

"I don't remember.  It doesn't matter.  I'm Peter and you're Father, and you love me." He fell into dreamless sleep, the sound of his father's heart-beat reassuring him that he was safe and loved.

Hook smiled as he realized the possibilities of this new development.  He looked at the men that sat around the fire with him, and saw how they stared at him, amazed.  Smee, Mullins, Jukes, Mason, Starkey, Cookson, Little, Corzone, and McNeery, the men he knew were loyal to him, that had come to him with news of the mutiny some of the other men were planning.  

"We will deal with those mutinous dogs tonight," Hook continued where the conversation had been interrupted by Peter's awakening.  "Mr. Jukes will stay with Peter until it's done.  Of the men still on the ship, how many will side with us?"

"Most of 'em, Cap'n," Mason replied.  "It's mostly Davis and a few of the other disgruntled louts that's causin' trouble.  It won't be hard to put down, but it's gotta be nipped now."

Hook nodded, "Oh it will be, do not doubt.  Now that Peter is recovering, I will be able to deal with them much more effectively."

"What's wrong with Peter," Billy asked.  "Why can't he remember anything?"

"Pan became too much of a nuisance, so I dispensed with him.  Apparently the magic wiped his mind clean."  He grinned proudly, "You have all witnessed the birth of my new son, Peter Hook.  No one will ever mention the name Pan again, nor will anyone speak of Neverland or any of the creatures within it.  I want nothing to jog his memory.  He is my son now, and he will love me as I love him." He glared at the men and gave them their warning, "Anyone who causes him to remember his true self will answer to me.  And I will consider it an even more serious offense than mutiny."

That night, each man swore to keep Hook's secret, and accept Peter as the Captain's son.  Billy sat with the boy while the grown men put down the mutiny, and to his relief Peter didn't awaken again until well after Hook returned, and even then it wasn't for more that a few minutes.  He didn't know how he would be able to lie to his friend, and dreaded knowing that he would have to sooner or later.  _But if Peter can be happy as Hook's son, it's not betrayal is it?  I'd be protecting him, and honoring my loyalties to my Captain.  _

The next day, Peter awoke aboard the _Jolly Roger_, the island disappearing quickly behind it.  He awoke to see his father sitting beside him, and smiled happily.  He was afraid of the questions, afraid of the emptiness in his mind.  But he felt the love the man had for him, felt it and knew it was real, and it steadied him.  

"Father," he said softly.  

Hook smiled at the child.  _I love to hear him say that.  I have a son!  He's mine now, truly mine.  I finally got what I wanted._  "Peter, welcome back," he replied.  He saw the boy's eyes travel around the cabin, taking in the contents of the room.  "We're back on the ship."

"Ship?" Peter asked uncertainly.

"Our home, the _Jolly Roger is a ship. I am its captain.  We were on an island, you were hurt.  We've left that place behind now.  You're with friends and family now."_

"Hurt," Peter repeated.  "What happened to me?"

Hook stared off into space.  He'd been thinking about what he would say to answer Peter's questions, and he'd decided the best answer would be nothing.  If he made up a story, the men would have to remember it too, and they'd likely slip up along the line and spoil it.  Peter was an intelligent boy, and he would notice when the details of the lie started changing.  "Peter, we need to talk.  I know you are lost and confused.  You've been through a lot.  But the truth is that it's best if you don't remember."

"I don't understand."

Hook took Peter's hand and squeezed it gently.  "So many horrible things have happened to the both of us.  I don't want you to suffer through it again.  I want you to be happy.  If you begin to remember things on your own, then I'll be there for you.  But I won't help you remember, and neither shall the rest of the crew."

Peter still didn't understand, but he nodded.  "I want to remember, but if you think I shouldn't then I'll try not to."  _He knows more about me than I do.  He loves me, so he must know best._  "Can I get up?"

Hook nodded and helped Peter to sit.  Peter looked down at himself and saw he was wearing only a pair of shorts.  He shivered a bit, "I'm cold.  Is it always cold?"

Hook looked out the window, noting the chill in the air for the first time.  "No, it's usually quite warm."  He saw that a fog was rolling in outside, which was odd because it was just after noon.  "Mr. Smee is mending your clothes, they got a little torn.  Wrap the blanket around yourself until he returns."

Peter did so and stood up.  "Mr. Smee?" he asked softly.  

"My bosun.  He's the oldest man on the ship, and he loves you dearly.  He helps me take care of you."  Hook watched Peter tentatively walk around the room, looking at things as they caught his attention.

"This is my room?" Peter asked, looking at the strange instruments and the books on the shelf.  He saw the second, larger bed.  "Our room?"

"Yes.  We share a room.  You serve on this ship as my cabin-boy, so you sleep in here with me."

"I'm Peter Hook, the cabin-boy on the _Jolly Roger_," Peter said softly.  "You are my father, Captain James Hook, and your bosun is Mr. Smee."  He repeated these things, hoping that by doing so he would jog a memory.  The words felt mostly right, but they recalled no images.  He continued to examine the room, hoping to find something familiar.  He saw something that caught his eye, a boy standing across the room from him.  He walked towards the boy, and the boy approached him too.  They both wore blankets, and when Peter reached out to touch him, he encountered a smooth surface instead of the other boy's fingers.  

"Is that me?" he wondered aloud.  The boy was a stranger, but it was himself… it bothered him, looking at his reflection and not recognizing it.  He stared, trying to accustom himself to how he looked.  Brown hair, blue eyes… he noticed the earring and tugged on it tentatively.  He dropped the blanket to see himself better and immediately his eyes went to the crossbones scar on his breast.  He touched it lightly, feeling it with his fingertips and becoming familiar with it.  For some reason, this stirred uneasiness within him.  He thought of something he had just seen, and turned to look at the hat sitting on his father's bed.  "This looks like that.  How did I get this?"

Hook had been watching Peter as he stared in the mirror, and he'd actually felt the sting of regret when he saw that the boy didn't even remember his own face.  _The spell removed every vestige of identity Peter had.  I guess I should be thankful it didn't make him as new as a babe, or I'd be feeding him and teaching him to speak right now._  He decided he could lie about this one, instead of denying the boy information.  "An evil man gave you that.  I have many enemies, and they have tried to use you to hurt me.  But that man is gone forever, so he doesn't matter anymore."

Peter frowned.  That didn't feel right, but he didn't know any better, so he accepted it.  He continued to stare in the mirror, noticing the many other scars he bore.  He didn't ask about all of them, they were too many.  "I suppose being on a ship is dangerous, and one gets hurt a lot."

"Ay," Hook said, walking to stand behind the boy.  He draped his arms over Peter's shoulders possessively and the two stared at themselves in the mirror.  "A pirate ship is a very dangerous place."

"We're pirates?"  Peter asked wonderingly.  He felt strange, standing within the man's embrace.  He wanted to flee, but at the same time he felt safe.  He looked at his reflection, then at his father's, back and forth trying to find something he recognized.  He noticed for the first time his father's hook.  "What happened to your hand, Father?"

Hook's face darkened, and he tightened his arms around the boy.  "That is one thing we will not speak of.  Suffice it to say that I lost it in a fight with my mortal enemy, and that he is now dead."

"Yes, sir," Peter said, feeling a touch of fear.  He had felt something shift inside, and realized that he was feeling his father's anger.  It scared him.  "I'm sorry," he added, his voice shaky.  

Hook noticed the boy's fear, and he knelt down to look at him.  "Peter, what's wrong?"

"I didn't mean to make you angry.  I didn't know I wasn't supposed to ask," he replied, tears welling up.

"No, Peter," Hook soothed, "you didn't.  You felt my anger, didn't you," Peter nodded, "that is a rare ability we have, and it grows less as time passes.  Don't speak of that connection to other men.  I wasn't angry at you; I was merely remembering the fight that cost me my hand.  Ask me anything you want, and if it's something I don't want you to know, I'll say so.  I understand that you are lost and confused right now, and I won't hold it against you.  You need time to adjust, that's all."

"Father," Peter said, and then stopped.  "Did I call you Father?  Or did I call you Daddy or Papa?"

Hook chuckled, "Call me whatever you wish in private.  On deck with the men, you must call me Captain.  When we're alone or off duty, you may call me Father or Daddy.  Father implies respect, Daddy implies affection.  Call me whichever you feel the strongest."

            "I- I don't feel affection for you," Peter stammered, and quickly finished his thought, "I don't know you yet.  I know I'm your son, but I don't feel it.  I feel that you love me, and I want to feel it back, but I can't feel any way about anything right now."  He looked around the cabin.  "Everything is so strange."

            "I understand," Hook replied, "Take your time and don't rush it.  Everything will come together eventually."

There was a knock on the door, and an old man with a beard and a dark-skinned boy walked in.  Both visitors were carrying items and looking at Peter curiously.  

"Ah, Peter, here are your clothes," Hook said.  He pointed at the two and introduced them, "This is Smee, and this is the ship's gunner, Billy Jukes."

Peter stared at them intently, "Mr. Smee, bosun, and Billy Jukes, gunner."

"Peter, do ya remember me?" Billy asked hopefully.  He felt disappointment when Peter shook his head, but he'd expected that answer.  "I – I mean, we were best friends before.  We talked to each other 'bout everythin'.  I still wanna be your friend even if ya don't remember me.  I bought ya some of your things."  He handed Peter his dagger and his pipes.  He deliberately avoided Hook's glare.  The man had left them on the island, not wanting Peter to have anything from Neverland.  But Billy knew that Peter had loved these two things more than anything else in the world, and he would never be able look his friend in the eye again if he let them be lost forever.  He'd risk a flogging or worse for Peter.

Peter looked at them in awe.  The dagger felt nice in his hand, like it belonged there.  But the pipes really drew his attention.  He put them to his lips, and he could almost hear melodies in his mind.  He blew a note, and laughed in delight at the sound.  He looked at the boy, about to thank him, when he noticed something odd.  Billy was staring at the floor, a look of dread on his face.  Peter could feel anger from his father, and knew it was directed at the one who had said they were friends.

_Father doesn't want me to have these.  Maybe he thinks they'll make me remember.  But Billy gave them to me anyway.  I don't want him to get into trouble.  _He turned to the man and smiled.  "Father, will you teach me how to use these?  Billy Jukes said they're mine, but they don't seem familiar.  I want to learn again if I used to play music.  I think I would like that."

Hook looked surprised, and Peter felt most of the man's anger melt away.  "I'm not proficient with the pipes, but I will help you relearn how to play them.  You made the most beautiful music; it would be a shame for that ability to be lost.  You were also a superb fighter.  When you are fit, I will help you remember how to duel."

Peter smiled and turned back to Billy.  "Thank you Billy Jukes.  And I would like to be your friend."

Billy returned Peter's smile tenfold, his relief palpable.  "Call me Billy."

"Ah, lad," Smee interrupted, "ya should be takin' yer clothes now.  Yer shiverin'.  It be gettin' colder out, so I added a coat fer ya, an' some gloves."

While Smee helped Peter get dressed and checked the fit of the coat, Hook took Jukes aside.  "You deliberately defied me, boy.  Explain yourself."

Jukes looked at Peter, then back at Hook.  "I love 'im, Cap'n, he's like my brother.  Those things were important to 'im, and if he ever gets his memories back he'll miss 'em.  I wouldn't be much of a friend if I let you leave 'em behind, and I believed you'd regret doin' it later."

"Then you should have kept them hidden," Hook hissed quietly.  "If he had remembered because you jogged him, I would have had to kill him… and I would have killed you, too."

"What did you do to him?"

"Pan and I fought, and I betrayed Peter.  I sought to rid myself of the one, and I did not realize what it would do to the other.  This outcome was unintended, but I prefer it to how things were going."  He glared at Jukes, but kept his hand off the boy, "If Pan comes back we will fight again.  He will never forgive what I did, and the old Peter cannot come back without him.  If you love him, you will do everything to keep him from remembering; his life depends on it."

Billy realized the implications of what his captain was telling him.  "Ay, Cap'n.  I understand.  I promise I'll help keep the truth from him.  And if I see him remember anything, sir, I'll come straight to you with the news."

Hook stared into Jukes's eyes for awhile longer, until the boy began to fidget.  "Good boy," he said at last, "Now go back to your duty.  I'll let you off early today, I have to return to duty myself, and you can spend that time with Peter and rekindle your friendship."

Billy nodded and left, relieved that he didn't get the beating he had expected.

Peter sat up, panicked, and stared at the man in the other bed.  He'd had a bad dream, a dream in which he'd lost something terribly important.  _Idiot, you've lost your memories.  I'd say that's pretty important._  But he also had the feeling that it had been more than that, and that he had to find it soon or all would be lost forever.  

_It's cold,_ he thought as his breath made a fog in the air.  It was a lot colder than it had been when they went to sleep, and the blanket he'd been under was no longer enough.  He suddenly felt as if the walls were closing in on him, and his panic increased.  Wrapping the blanket tightly around himself, he went out on deck.

It was dark, after midnight, and the fog was thick around the ship.  The night-watch was on duty, and the men that saw him merely nodded and went back to their duties.  Peter only nodded back, he recognized none of them, and had no idea if he'd known any of them before or not.  _If any of them were friendly to me, I suppose they'd at least smile_.  He looked around, breathing in the cold air.  It felt better out here, but that sense of urgency was still nagging at him, and he still felt confined.  

_I wish I could fly,_ he thought, then frowned.  _Fly?  That's silly, people don't fly._  But the idea of being in the open air away from other people appealed to him.  He looked up and saw the crow's nest, high atop the mainmast.  Peter smiled, realizing that that was where he wanted to go.  Dropping the blanket (it would only get in his way while he climbed), he began his ascent.

Once within the nest, he felt better.  The fog was thick, and he could barely make out the deck below.  He felt alone, like he was floating in a void.  He didn't understand why he liked it up here in the damp and cold better than in his own warm bed, but since he couldn't remember anything, he had to listen to what he was told and what he felt in his heart.  He shivered, his bare skin covered in goose-bumps, and sat down.  He was clad only in his under-shorts, and he regretted leaving the blanket below.  _I don't know what I should do now, but I don't want to go back down there yet.  He sighed and closed his eyes, and in moments was fast asleep._

Hook awoke with a start, realizing that something was wrong.  He looked to Peter, and felt a jolt when he saw the bed was empty.  "Peter!" he yelled as he looked around the room.  When he assured himself the boy wasn't there, he jerked on his clothes and strode out on deck.

"WHERE'S MY SON!" he roared at the night watch.  

"Cap'n?" one man, Mr. Seabury, spoke up.  "We saw the lad climb to the lookout a coupl'a hours ago.  We thought you'd sent him up."

Hook grabbed the man and hoisted him up.  "You idiot!  What kind of man do you think I am?  Why would I send a sick child to the crow's nest in this God-forsaken weather?"  With a snarl, he tossed the man to the side and began to climb up.  _These men have taken to not questioning me at all, since I broke up the mutiny.  _Hook had dealt harshly with the five men who had tried to stir up the mutiny, and now many of the men were scared to death of him.  They should be, after the manner in which he had executed Davis (the man had it coming for trying to kill Peter before), and the other four men had been thankful for their mercifully quick death sentences.  But he didn't want the dogs to follow without reason or thought:  he wasn't infallible and he didn't want the crew to assume what his orders would be.

Soon he was in the nest, and for an instant he flashed back to the last time he had climbed up here to find Peter.  He again saw the boy, wrists gashed and blood everywhere.  He blinked and the image was gone.  Instead, he saw the nearly naked child curled up tight against the cold, crying out in a nightmare.  

"Codfish!" Peter moaned, "Hate you… let me go…"  Peter kicked and thrashed, then curled up again.

Hook stared in shock, a sinking sensation filling him.  _He remembers.  NO!  He can't remember, he'll hate me and I'll lose him.  He bent down and touched the boy, wincing at Peter's ice cold skin.  __That doesn't matter right now; he'll freeze to death if he stays out here.  He tried to pick Peter up, but the boy fought him.  Shaking his head, he got a grip on Peter and lifted him, ignoring the light hits and kicks he received._

Suddenly Peter began sobbing and his eyes opened.  They were Pan's eyes, but they did not focus on anything.  "De'shanta… parat," he groaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head, and then slid shut.  Peter fell silent and limp, and soon was breathing softly in dreamless sleep.

_I yield… for now,_ Hook translated in his mind.  He tightened his hold on the boy, unsure of what to do.  _I thought I rid him of that brat, but he still speaks through him.  I don't know what he means, he gives up, but I will_ see Pan destroyed._  He slung Peter over his shoulder and climbed down the mast.  He stopped at the bottom to pick up the blanket, when suddenly everything changed.  There was a roaring noise, and the fog swirled in the high wind that had come from nowhere.  It lasted a few seconds, and the fog and the cold were gone.  Before it had been so cold that ice had formed on the deck; now it was pleasantly warm and clear.  _

The men on deck gasped and shouted in fear and wonder.  Some of them pointed up to the sky.  Hook looked up, and for the first time in years he beheld the single moon he'd been born under, and the summer constellations he'd learned to navigate by.

"We're back in the mortal realm," he whispered.  He looked at Peter, and a suspicion began to form in his mind.  _Pan kept us from land for over three months.  Could he also have been keeping us in the fey realm?  He gave up… is that what released us?  If that was true, then perhaps he didn't have to worry about Pan coming back after all.  The whelp would never have let them back into the mortal realm unless he'd had no choice.  _

Hook wanted to stay outside and gaze at the stars he'd missed for so long, but more men were coming up to see and Peter was still ice cold.  He knew he had to warm the boy or he could get sick.  So he carried Peter to their room without a backwards glance.

He put the boy in his bed, and took off everything but his own pants.  He climbed in beside Peter and pulled the blankets up.  "Peter, wake up son," he said softly as he pulled the child against him and wrapped his arms around the small body.  He hissed as his skin came in contact with Peter's, and he began to shiver as he felt his warmth leave his body to flow into the boy's.  _He wasn't this cold a minute ago.  What happened?  Hook didn't know and he didn't even try to guess.  If it had anything to do with magic, then there was no telling.  But he did worry that Pan would awaken again.  With the boy this close to him, the fight could be ugly.  __I beat him before, I can do it again.  He's unarmed, and I have my hook.  _

So he held Peter and waited to see.  After a while, he no longer felt a difference between his body temperature and the boy's, meaning either Peter was warmer or he was colder.  His shivers subsided, and he began to feel comfortably warm and drowsy.  He began to drift off, when he felt the boy stir beside him.

Peter heard the familiar heartbeat and smiled.  He was warm and he recognized the feel of his father's embrace.  "Daddy?" he said sleepily as he opened his eyes.

"Peter," Hook breathed in relief.  He realized how worried he had been now that the fear was gone, and his insides began to unknot.  Pan would never call him Daddy, and neither would the old Peter.  "Peter, you scared me."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "what did I do?"

"I found you outside in the cold.  I was afraid you would freeze to death.  Why did you go outside?"

Peter frowned and he rolled to look at his father's face.  "I don't remember.  I remember being cold… I don't like being cold.  I like this, it's warm."

"You don't remember?" Hook mused.  "Perhaps you walked in your sleep.  You sometimes have strange nightmares.  You had one tonight, do you remember it?"

Peter thought.  He only had faint impressions, and they were fading fast.  "I don't remember what I dreamed.  I remember that I was afraid… I was trapped in something and I couldn't get out… everything felt hopeless… like I'd lost everything that was important to me."  He felt sadness well up, and he let the tears come.  "I _have_ lost everything.  I've lost my entire life, and you said I shouldn't remember it.  And now I feel like I'll never get it back."

Hook hugged Peter and kissed him on the forehead.  "You still have me.  And you have Billy, and Smee, they both love you too.  Many of the men on this ship are fond of you:  Mullins, Starkey, Cookson, Mason… they've known you the longest.  You have a family right here, and that is more than a lot of people have.  And you have your entire life ahead of you.  You're young still… you're only ten years old.  Most of the years you've forgotten are years that adults rarely remember anyway."  He wiped Peter's face and smiled at him fondly.  "Please don't be sad.  You've been sad for too much of your life.  I love you, and no matter what, you have me."

Peter smiled back through his tears.  "I love you, too, Daddy," he replied.  He yawned widely, "I'm sleepy."

Hook was overwhelmed with joy.  Peter had said it; he'd said the words he never thought he would hear.  _I love you, too, Daddy.  Trying not to cry himself, he kissed Peter's forehead again.  "Go back to sleep, then," he muttered.  "Tomorrow we'll get you caught up, and you'll start getting new memories to make up for the ones that are gone."_

Peter didn't answer, already drifting off to sleep again.  Hook lay awake for a long time after that, too excited to sleep.  _He's mine.  Peter Pan is gone, my revenge is complete, and I've been given a son to love in place of an enemy to hate.  _"Sweet dreams, Peter," he said softly.  "Tomorrow you start your new life."

Continued in Part Three of the series, Kidnapped:  Found


End file.
